


Ambidexterous

by An_Ephemeral_Walk



Series: Mixed Media [3]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: A crossover, Comedy, Crossover, Gen, Horror, You will definitely want to read Corruption before you read this, i am not sitting here and listing every single character from both games, if youve read my other stuff and was fine, let's do this, look - Freeform, thats right, the go to for these stories really, this one won't be any different
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-01-01 13:11:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 221,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Ephemeral_Walk/pseuds/An_Ephemeral_Walk
Summary: Countless rewinds, two years, two locations, two worlds. A spot of magic from a desperate group hoping to gain full control of the gods in one world. An impressive amount of desperation from a studio to gain some form of protection from the crazy that comes from a man who carries a cutout under his arm and a sense of humor in his soul nigh immovable, unbreakable.However it goes, however it starts, mistakes are made, the severity of which unseen until it's too late.





	1. Rise of Bendipe

So, here he was. Henry stared up at the odd-looking studio with a rather critical look in his eye. He’d seen shabbier buildings in the war, but that didn’t excuse the sheer decrepit state of the place. He glanced at the note in his hand once more, then back at his bike, then back to the door before him. Figuring he had nothing to lose, nearly dying every day for three years did things to a person. Namely, removed any true ability to fret. Henry had handled it better than a few of his war buddies at least. He’d tried to spread the philosophy of ‘why worry when it’s as easy as either it is your problem, or it won’t be in a minute.’ But that was quite difficult when half the weapons didn’t even fully kill, more maimed while giving a sorry attempt at murder.

As such, he shrugged his shoulders and strode in. The door creaked loudly with each tiny movement, as if it hadn’t been oiled since it was put in place. Frankly, it hadn’t even been a second and Henry was unimpressed and felt a small urge to punch Joey. Rude bastard had the gall to invite him to this place and not even greet him at the door. Though, thinking back on the studio’s golden years, he realized this was classic Joey. His buddy always did have a nasty habit of being a pain in Henry’s ass, but too endearing for Henry to turn Joey’s nose cartilage into the creamiest butter spread. As it was, he watched the largest dust bunny he had ever seen hop across the oddly drawn looking floorboards with a dead expression.

Closing the door behind him, he strode in, gearing up his memory because thirty years was a long ass time and he’d been twenty-two when he’d started the place up with Joey. Joey had crafted one cartoon, he’d crafted another, and the two moseyed on from there. Actually, to his right he noticed his own creation, Bendy the Dancing Demon. Made because he’d thought it be funny as a kid to see a dancing demon. That and it was easy to make his mother think he was just terrible at drawing cats. Joey’s creation was on a poster on the wall further down the entrance hall, Boris the Wolf. Joey had never been all that creative, but damn if it hadn’t been amusing watching Joey near topple over a chair when he’d leaned over to Henry to explain.

“Henry, Boris is the name you’d give a dog. Who would expect a wolf, named Boris! It’s hilarious because I said so and we’ll make it work.” Joey had said with a twinkle that was oddly shaped like a money sign in his eye. Henry had followed along even then, his need to see how far they’d go outshining any warning bells in his head. To his surprise, Bendy was a massive hit. He swept across the nation in his little tutu and endeared himself in the hearts of children and adults. Boris had followed quickly behind, people loving the fact that Boris was more devious than the literal demon. Then the war had kicked into high gear and he’d been shipped off, he figured Joey had too but had never checked. They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms, but not bad ones either.

Henry had merely threatened Joey with a beat down so intense his ancestors and descendants would all feel it as far as five generations forward and back. Joey had angrily waved him off, apparently not happy to lose his biggest partner in crime to the snobs back over the pond. That was then, and now was now, and now he was walking around, wondering if the place was how he remembered it. He didn’t remember it looking drawn, that was for sure, and the pipes were new. There were exposed boards in the walls, and the poorest excuse for chairs he’d ever seen. They’d made better chairs in the trenches. That thing looked like it wouldn’t support the weight of a feather much less the Bendy doll on it. He turned his head to focus on words scrawled in ink down the hall and just stared.

“Dreams come true” He got the rather ugly feeling that Joey’s dream fetish had gotten worse while he was gone. He looked at the tiny Bendy and leaned closer. It stared at him with a blank smile.

“Hey, you think Joey knows I’m going to see something I don’t like and follow through? If you see him before I do, tell him I don’t have toast, but I can pistol whip things better than a batter can swing.” He intoned despite the whisper he used. Like he was telling a secret and gave exactly one damn if the secret got out. The Bendy plush stared back at him, and so he nodded, it flopped over and off the chair for no reason, and he stood up, and walked further into the building. It became apparent where all the ink to write the words on the wall came from. A large puddle of ink was seeping through the boards above and soaking the floor below in a rapid drip. He swore he heard no less than fifteen plumbers suddenly lift up their heads in cries of sorrow for the lost pipework.

Turning his head, he spotted a Bendy sketch on the wall, right at the height where it would be a bitch to actually draw. As such, he was rather impressed it looked on model. He told it as much and walked down the darker hall. There was one door with the light on under it and he tried to open it, surprised to find it was locked.

“You’d think Joey would have removed the lock considering he had a strange hatred for them. Maybe as his dream fetish grew he lost the hatred.” He said aloud, and thought, for a moment, he’d heard a wet snort from something in the ceiling. That wasn’t his problem though and thus, he ignored it. He continued on, reading the words ‘Ink Machine’ on the doorway above what could only be described as every mechanics wet dream/nightmare. It looked like an elephant if a drunkard who’d never seen an elephant was told to draw one but was given the description for that weird antelope he’d seen in a book once. It looked like the result of an engineer playing a prank on a mechanic, both of whom were drunk during the design and build. He was so deeply offended by the thing he almost wanted to slap his thoughts on it right on the side for Joey to see, and walk out.

Instead, he walked in, he had no paper after all, and just about felt his heart stop when a large figure came into his peripheral vision. He twisted and spotted a large Bendy cutout and figured he could share his opinion with someone at least. Even if that someone was his brain child. He swore, in some far more alert place in his mind, the cutout’s eyes had twinkled while he ranted for a minute about how _ugly_ the ink machine was. But time was ticking and he didn’t want to be here all day, so he stepped closer and observed the thing no mother/mechanic could love. He swore he heard a whisper of ‘turn it on’ behind him and turned his head to check. The cutout stared back at him from across the room and he gave his brain baby an incredulous expression.

“Just how do you expect me to turn this thing on? Seduce it with promises to make it less pathetic? Bendy I’m an artist and war vet, not a miracle worker.” He scolded, and then started back for the door, figuring he’d explore the rest of the building. Knowing Diva Joey, he’d have to find the balding string bean somewhere inconvenient. He walked past the cutout and headed back down the hall. Turning right, he headed further into the building, looked left, spotted another hall and then looked right. There was another Bendy cutout, and Henry _frowned_. He didn’t think he liked knowing Joey had commissioned his Bendy to be put on life size cutouts. Who knows what that man would do to the devil darling.

He decided to head towards the cutout, as that looked more interesting, and spotted an art desk in the corner. He arched an eyebrow, wondering what sorry animator got the short straw to have their desk be put in such a terrible place. It was most likely the shame desk Joey had claimed he’d put in one day. Moving past it, and giving Bendy a quick wave, he carried on, and watched a board fall from the ceiling and crash down onto the floor in front of him. He stared at it, walked back a few steps so he could see the Bendy cutout, looked at the board, looked at Bendy, and said with as straight a face as he could

“I knew this place would fall apart without me. Who knew it would actually fall for me instead.” And carried on, proud he’d finally gotten to use the joke he’d always wanted to. If he had been able to see behind him, he’d have seen the cutouts smile widen with true mirth. But he couldn’t, and so it remained an unknown to him. He got to the end of that hall and looked both ways. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was really seeing what his eyes were feeding his brain. He fought the urge to grab the Bendy cutout and carry it with him like the world’s most unwieldy teddy bear. Instead, he carefully started down the corridor, visions of what he’d do to Joey growing far more “creative” with every step he took.

Boris, opened up like a cadaver at medical school, was pinned to a table that had a massive tube of ink latched onto it. He scowled deeply at the figure and examined the x-ed out eyes of the black and white toon. He looked around the room, trying to find out any clues as to who decided to play ‘horror movie’ with Joey’s creation. All he found were two candles, fresh in appearance, burning away, and more words written on the wall.

“Who’s laughing now? Well, I can safely say not Boris, and soon to be whoever figured this would be funny. Joey, my vote is on you! I know you had a near obsession with doing things that would make me react! But trying to frame me with murder is right out the deep end!” Henry spoke just above a normal volume. He thought to add the fact that it was clear Joey’s handwriting hadn’t improved, because wow it really hadn’t, but decided against it. Instead, he took a harder look around the room, found a strange ink bottle that he swiftly grabbed, and he strode out of the room. If anyone thought he’d let them put the blame on him for the body in the studio, that was them assuming he’d ever tell anyone. Or that they’d believe him after he had already carefully cultivated his ‘crazy but good with fixing pipes and vehicles, and shoveling, suspiciously good at shoveling’ persona.

He walked down the hall to the other room and felt his frown not only return but return full force. Apparently, someone had decided the best thing to add to the engineer’s drunk hallucination across the way, was to slap the on/off switch, in an entirely different area. Whoever it was, likely Wally if he was being honest, he was going to point and laugh at them for no less than ten annoying minutes. He looked around the room, noting how, for some odd reason, the bottle he’d had in his hands a second ago had suddenly appeared on a pedestal without him noticing its absence.  Now, he _could_ freak out, make a big deal of that, and flee. He could, but the war had taught him things, things like ‘literally everything and its uncle is a trap, and if you trigger it, just let whatever happens happen, if you don’t, you could make it worse’. So, he eyed the pictures behind the pedestals, made a mental note to projectile vomit on the person that made junk be the fuel for the machine, and went back out to get started.

He didn’t get too far, because where it wasn’t before, the Bendy cutout stood, directly under a light. He looked at it for a moment and then gave the biggest disappointed sigh he could. He informed Bendy that standing directly under a light to appear spooky only worked if one was three dimensional, pat him on the head and carried on. He didn’t have time for worrying about Bendy’s sudden independence, he had a machine to turn on if he wanted to deck Joey in the pelvis. Glancing behind him he saw the cutout had turned to face him, but this time it had the board that had fallen before across its body. He gave it a big smile and thumbs up.

“Not great, but that’s better. I don’t think we ever really went over great hide and seek practices so I’ll give you this attempt.” He told Bendy, and went back through the halls, looking for things to match the pictures. The Bendy cutout gained a confused but otherwise happy tilt to its smile.

\---0---0---0---

Henry had found not only three more items, but also his old desk, which, confusingly enough, had a Bendy cutout next to it. He looked at the now weak looking chair and the off model Bendy he’d made when Bendy was being particularly painful to animate. It had a harsh ‘NO’ written next to it, and he wondered if any other animators tried copying the joke version after he’d gone.

“I don’t know if you know this, but during the war, I drew a bunch of comics featuring you for all the guys to take a gander at. It eased the nerves a little. Course, the one with the joke about trying to choke someone with no neck out got soured when our sniper was garroted.” He told the cutout, brushing his hand across the pages. He almost lost himself in memories, but a scuffing sound behind him brought him back out. He turned, unsurprised to find nothing there, evidently the ‘give a damn’ meter was going back down. Instead, the annoyance and ‘need to prank the prankster’ rose up from the depths of his mind. He eyed the Bendy cutout, and then moved on, only giving a single unimpressed frown when he realized the doll, the vinyl record, and the wrench were gone from his pockets.

Carrying on, he found a book down near the running projector. He thought, for one horrified moment, that the ghost of their projectionist was with him, jacking with the equipment again. Norman always did love scaring the newbies. Then he realized he didn’t even know if Norman was dead and continued on. He glanced down at the book he’d picked up and read the title out loud.

“The Illusion of Living, by Joey Drew. Wow, he actually wrote an auto-biography, I didn’t think he had it in him.” Henry said to no one in particular, which was fine, he could laugh at his own jokes. He did, all without moving his mouth so the laugh came from an unsmiling face. After a hearty-- and unnerving/impressive to those that were watching from the walls-- fifteen seconds of laughing without even a twitch of a smile, he went digging for more. He figured he was almost done, and then he spotted the recorder on the wall. Like anyone would, he clicked the button, praying whoever made it had rewound the tape. They had, evidently, when an old co-workers voice came out, and he listened to the man list even more issues with the machine. If his face looked any less surprised, he was certain it would start devouring all surprise in the world.

He walked on, finally discovering the last item if his memory wasn’t failing him in age. Frankly he was glad he’d maintained his dream of not letting himself become a weak old man. He didn’t even feel winded from all the walking so that was a clear sign his exercising efforts weren’t going to waste. He headed back to the room-of-poor-design-choices and squinted to read the screen. He grumbled, wondering if he went searching for nothing because the thing still needed more to work. Loudly proclaiming that Joey should never go near a blueprint ever again, he headed back into the studio’s halls. After a few twists and turns, he noted the suspiciously lit hallway he needed to go down, mentally shrugged, figuring whatever popped out would get a punch in the face either way, and walked down the hall.

He hadn’t expected a Bendy cutout to lean out from behind the corner and peek at him, then dart back behind the wall. He looked up to the wood above and gave a loud sigh. He strode quickly over to the turn and simply turned the corner. The cutout was leaning against the wall, and he swore it was giving him an expectant grin. So he did what that urge told him to. He pulled out a spare inkbrush he’d picked up while wandering, dipped it into a nearby puddle of ink, and drew a mustache on Bendy’s face. The fat one that curled at the ends that he’d seen on a few other drawings. Then he picked up the cutout, and walked into the room, not even blinking at the apparently turned on projector.

“Look Bendipe,” He said, taking on the Spanish accent his war buddy had when saying Bendipe, and he pointed to the screen. “That could be you if they made cardboard… bendy.” He told the cutout, now deemed Bendipe. He strode into the room, found the pressure button, and hit it. Then he walked back out the room, and carried on down the hall, ready to flip the switch and knock every tooth down Joey’s throat. Had he been looking at the cutout, he’d see the blatantly stunned expression on its supposedly stagnant face. He didn’t, so it went unnoticed by him.

\---0---0---0---

The two wandered back to the room with the silly pedestals, Henry waving to every cutout and giving each increasingly silly names. There was only one Bendipe however, only one, and that one was his new buddy. He told Bendipe as much, after expressing to Bondo that he wasn’t willing to carry a buddy for Bendipe. He apologized to Boondoondee for not having the ability to draw a mustache on him like he had Bendipe. In his wake he left cutouts desperately wishing they could laugh, and a creature in the walls urgently trying to get to the lower floors so he could laugh hysterically and get back up in time for the machine to turn on.

\---0---0---0---

Henry adjusted Bendipe so he too could watch Henry flip the lever, and upon doing so, the lights flickered a few times, and the ones around him went out. Henry stared with empty eyes at the ink splurting out of the lever and Bendipe noted a marked increase in disappointment coming from Henry, not that he could say anything, being a cutout and all. The two silently walked back to the ink machine room, and once more, Henry paused. The doorway had been boarded up. He glanced at Bendipe and headed to see how well placed the boards were. Right as he got within arm’s length, a black, inky, goopy, Bendy reject looking thing sprang out from the boards and was promptly punched directly in the face. The creature toppled back and Henry turned to Bendipe.

“Bendipe, violence is never the answer, never do what I did, it’s rude. Bentony! Get your act together! That was even worse that Bendipe’s hiding attempts!” Henry told the frozen figure on the ground and then he turned, and he got the horrible realization that the ink creature had left ink all over his fist, and thus, could leave ink on Bendipe. He let out the most impressive string of cusses any of them had ever heard and broke into a dead sprint down the halls. Ink began to rise from the floor, and thousands of plumbers let out a cry that could mimic the mating cry of a hundred whales. Henry hefted Bendipe higher and started telling Bendipe he’d do everything in his power to ensure Bendipe and his mustache survived. Of course, right as he got a few feet from the exit, the floor gave out, and Bendipe was suddenly being used as a parachute. Henry, who had blanked out, watched the ink pour down around them. Then, he smashed into the floor below, only slowed a tad by Bendipe, and he fainted.

The last thing Bendipe heard Henry mutter was frankly the most gruesome and descriptive vow of revenge on Joey. From above,  newly named Bentony wheezed.


	2. Bendipe: chapter 2 round 2 part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BATIM chapter 2 if Henry was an unstoppable old man suped up on spite, humor, and curiosity.

The first thing that Henry did once consciousness returned to him was to hiss another vow of agony for Joey. The second thing was check on Bendipe. Bendipe, still over his body, stared back at him, face blurry due to how close he was. Henry let out a sigh of relief and let his body scream in pain for a few minutes. It wasn’t like he was in a hurry. Finally, after gaining his bearings, letting the aching in his bones fade to a far more tolerable state, he sat up. He half used Bendipe as a crutch to help himself stand, but Bendipe didn’t mind, not that he could say anything if he did.

Henry looked around the room trying to figure out just where he was and if he needed to add ‘poor architecture’ to his growing ‘list o’ studio sins’. The fact that the very first thing his gaze landed on were coffins told him the list would indeed be growing. Then there was the pentacle under his feet and the candles burning away.

“Bendipe…This is very important. I need you to check my back and tell me if someone removed one of my organs.” Henry said and gingerly set Bendipe down so he could lift his shirt and check his front. There was no response from Bendipe, but twisting didn’t hurt and he didn’t see a pool of blood under him, so his hopes were high.

“Okay, no black-market shenanigans, just black magic shenanigans. It’s something I suppose. Oh hey an axe! Right on the coffins. Bendipe did I wake up before the black-market shenanigans could start?” He picked his trusty little creation back up and proceeded to wander around, ignoring the axe for now. The hallway led only to broken wood in a way he simply couldn’t wrap his head around. The bottom floorboards went up but the ceiling boards went down. He had no idea how that was possible unless someone intentionally decided they wanted to block that exit off in the most tedious way possible. He worried for the hobbies of whoever had done this, or likely lack thereof. Turning to the room he’d left, he spotted a door and silent judgement reigned supreme on his face once more.

“Two. Two boards Bendipe. They put two boards across the upper part of that door. I… I could just duck Bendipe, and I’d be through. The audacity of that person is amazing.” He reached one arm out and tugged on one of the boards. It came off without him even putting a touch of force on it.

“And held in place by fairy snot! Look at this Bendipe! This is a clear sign of what our antagonist thinks of us!” Voice full of mock wounded pride and hand dramatically pressed to chest, Henry whirled around and snatched up the axe. It didn’t feel right in his hand, but he stowed it via one of his belt loops anyway. He tore off the other board and pushed the door open. Taking four steps in, he watched a board from the ceiling fall down in a repeat of the upper floors. He heaved out a disappointed sigh and pressed on. Down the stairs he caught sight of more scrawled graffiti on the walls; right next to a Bendy drawing.

“’He will set us free’ hm?” Henry tilted his head a bit and glanced at the drawing. “Well if its referring to you, I’d like to formally request you not set me free until I can punch Joey.” He told it and carried on, adjusting Bendipe under his arm so the cutout was angled in a way that let it see without clipping any of the walls. Henry took in the bowl of what had to be bacon soup that had a whole new life-form growing in it, grimaced, and very carefully avoided going any closer to that wall. Though he did pause to contemplate taking the banjo. While he’d love to nab it and play a little tune, he didn’t like how it’d been sitting near the gross soup. He spotted another one of those recorders and meandered over. While it played, he got the distinct feeling he was being watched and squinted accusatorily at the tiny Bendy cutout.

“I said, can I get an amen.” A voice echoed the last line of the recorded message. Henry, having recognized the voice from the get go, couldn’t resist.

“I don’t know Sammy, can you? You should have gotten all of your amen’s before class started.” He teased and twisted to look for his good buddy. When he didn’t see anyone, he tilted Bendipe up towards his face. “Just like Sammy to vanish, I tell you, he was the biggest drama queen besides Wally.” He gave Bendipe a playful tap on his horn with his free hand and scoffed at the sight of more coffins.

“It’s a good thing those things are empty or we’d be seeing a whole lot of corpse juice leaking out of that. I once saw a casket that had ‘the best sealant to keep the dirt from your loved one’ burst due to pressure buildup. Aunt Linda got nailed with a blast of grey goo and threw up all over the picnic. Why was there a casket like that where we were eating? Look, we were celebrating the death of our asshole grandfather and we do that by raising the casket back up every two years so he can get a real good look at how his family isn’t a screaming wreck.” Henry had a wistful note to his voice. The happy tilt to his smile mirrored by Bendipe.

“Hey wait, did he…Sammy were you talking about Bendy in that thing? Are you hitting on my creation!? Boy I have an axe and a far too large buildup of wrath to dish out! I learned things in that war Sammy! You keep away from my brain child!” Henry shouted at the hallway he was about to go down. Oddly enough he swore he heard the sound someone made when they choked on a laugh and wound up coughing instead. He shrugged it off, Sammy would learn a thing that day if he really was being creepy towards Bendy. He started down the hall, taking in the sight of a Bendy cutout on the wall, leaning against another more elaborate symbol.

“Try all you want Boodie, you’ll never be as amazing as Bendipe.” He told it, patting it gently on the head between the horns and continuing on. The distressed whine he gave out at the sight of the next hall made the cutout, that had been smiling wider, frown. Henry, focused on the ink filled hallway, didn’t see it. He carefully set Bendipe down and dipped one leg into the hall, letting out an immense sigh of relief upon realizing it wasn’t that deep, just about ankle height. He picked Bendipe up once more and held the mustachioed cutout higher up so no ink so much as splashed on it.

As he was making his way down, slowly to reduce splashing, he saw a figure wearing scruffy overalls and a Bendy mask shuffle by where he’d been heading. The man had a Bendy cutout too, and only after noticing the cutout did he notice that the figure was inky black from head to toe besides the mask and the pants. He let out a surprised sound and immediately pegged it as the same sort of thing he’d seen before. He dearly hoped that it wasn’t that guy though. Anyone that got Bendy’s face so wrong simply shouldn’t be allowed to hold a Bendy cutout. He almost called out, but they were gone before he decided what to say so he shrugged and moved forward. If the thing was going to take a swing at him though, they’d find out real quick _exactly_ what happened to someone that endangered Bendipe.

Reaching the doorway and cautiously peeking around the corner, he spotted no figure, but he did see another cutout, perhaps the same one that had been carried. He clutched Bendipe to his chest in a hug.

“It’s okay Bendipe, I’m not going to abandon you. I’m so sorry Bendop, that the thing carrying you just left you to stare at a boring hallway. I hope interesting things happen so you don’t lose your adorable mind.” He woefully pat it on the chest, still hugging Bendipe, and turned to continue on. He didn’t care that the thing had vanished, the studio was poorly built so he wouldn’t be surprised if the fellow had used a secret entrance. With how shoddy everything else here was, it wouldn’t be hard to hide the door to one. He finally got a really good look at the cans of bacon soup, and his face spasmed violently. The fact that Joey had stamped his devil darling on a can of that swill, with the design that clearly could only come from one of the interns after a three-day bender, was another reason for knocking Joey around.

When he got a gander at the switch board that would power the gate blocking his way, the third reason ‘poor mechanical design’ was rewritten in bold print. He recalled seeing one hidden behind the atrocious cans and pressed it, noting the entirely useless location of it. Then he remembered one all the way back near the tiny Bendy cutout, headed back and pressed it. He then spent five minutes searching high and low for the last one.

\---0---0---0---

“ _Who in the god damn shitting fucking pig hoof guzzling egg snorting hell thought to put a button here_?!” His indignant screech echoed through the halls. There was no response, at least not one that he heard.

\---0---0---0---

“Look at that Bendipe. Five whole boards. That’s what respect looks like.” Said five boards lasted all of half a second when Henry, remembering the last ones, flat out sprinted and twisted so his back hit them at the last second. Bendipe, if he could, would be clapping at the theatrics. Henry, fully pleased with himself, took in the sight of the room, axe swinging uselessly at his side. He arched a brow at the sight of the sign proudly declaring this area the music department. Last he knew, the music department had been upstairs where that ugly machine now sat. He wondered if Sammy had finally managed to talk Joey into giving the music department a far better location or if he’d been relocated because of the abomination to mechanics.

He decided that before he would touch the recorder next to the sign he’d wander a tad. He found a switch next to a flooded staircase that turned the power on in the area and rightfully figured the place was far less gloomy with the lights on. He moved closer to the sign once more, not expecting an ink creature to burst from a puddle. He barely managed to scrabble back, but out the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a tiny dot of ink on Bendipe’s cheek; left over from the creature’s wild swing. He darted back to the switch room, red taking over his vision, and turned to face the antagonists.

\---0---0---0---

While Henry was turned away, Bendipe invoked the magic that let him repair his appearance, being sure to leave the mustache intact. He could see splashes and flashes of whatever Henry was doing, but no more than that. Then a searchers head went sailing through the air and thwapped into the wall above the staircase. Bendipe, at that moment, fell deeply in love with his darling creator. The kind of love that came from admiration of a well-respected person. He only remembered he could see through the Bendy cutout perched on the wall after the last one had been dealt with. The fact that his creator hadn’t made a sound the entire time made him wonder just what had happened. The response of mute horror mixed with even more admiration from the other cutout told him whatever had gone down had been grand.

Golly, his creator sure was spiffy.

\---0---0---0---

Henry returned to pick Bendipe up, sagging with relief at the sight of the clean cheek. He wiped his hands along the walls, giggling at the knowledge the next person to see the smears would be awful confused. Once his hands were about as clean as they were going to get, he picked Bendipe back up and returned to the room. Ink covered the walls and ceiling in arcs and bits of searcher plopped down from the walls when gravity got ahold of them once more. He strolled over to the next recorder, unsurprised it was a surly Sammy talking about leaks from the thing that should go down in history as the most useless art related machine. He did get a laugh at the knowledge that Sammy also had the switch to drain the leaks but wondered how or where the drains were.

He honestly didn’t want to know actually, based on how illogical everything else in this place was. He strolled through the hall that lead up to a projector room, taking a moment to listen to the fun tune playing. He did love Sammy’s work, guy was pretty solid when it came to music. He ambled upstairs, listened to another tape while staring at the lone Bendy cutout below, noting the frankly strange mannerisms from Sammy. He guessed it was ink fume exposure. While thinking on whether that sounded like usual Sammy or gassed up Sammy, he walked back down, and went into the room that the projector pointed into. He praised the Bendy on the wall, the one splashing around with an umbrella above his head and looked around for the other cutout, disappointed when he didn’t see it. He heard a scuffling sound and glanced up at the projector booth, doleful expression during happy at seeing the cutout.

“Oh, you wily little scamp you.” He teased. The cutout stared, if its smile was less cardboard and livelier, he simply figured it was a sign of good artistry. He listened to the voice actress for Alice Angel and tried to think about whether he remembered seeing the woman around. He’d probably remember her better if he saw her, but for now, he simply couldn’t place a face to the voice. He looked at all the instruments, playing a little ditty on a few of them. Then he went back to explore more.

He found the recording rooms, poked at the pipe organ a bit, trying to imagine how annoying the loud instrument would have been to anyone above this room. He estimated it would have driven him to chewing through the floorboards and bashing the pianists kneecaps with a leg from the piano bench by the end of the week depending on how often it was played. So, not blatantly annoying, but certainly not ignorable. Continuing down he spotted a few strange things. The first was the office with a viewing ledge carved into the wall. The second was the ink pooling in the in the doorway.

“Well cutout whose name is Bond, Bendbond, looks like Sammy wasn’t lying about the ink. Now, if he was around, he’d be quite angry about someone intruding in his office. That being said, I feel that, as a parent, I have a ‘get out of being yelled at’ card this one time.” With that, he scuttled through the opening in the wall and carefully pulled Bendipe through as well. He thought it right cute that the cutout leaning on the wall was double sided.

He was glad flipping this switch was so easy compared to the first few engineering faux pas. He didn’t want to imagine this being more convoluted. Knowing his luck, had there been thick glass, he’d have had to find a way to clear the doorway by finding keys that would be in some counterintuitive spot to get to a closet that would give him more info on the pump to clear the door. The very idea made him shudder with how unpleasant it sounded. He took a gander at the rest of the room. Henry snorted at the sight of the words scrawled on the wall, letting his gaze follow the text to the table and the paper on the table while he spoke.

“Yeah I believe in plenty of- _mark II? Mark fucking II?! That piece of scrap is the **second fucking version?! Are you kidding me?!**_ ” The two cutouts watched Henry rant for what they guessed was a good three minutes. The sheer amount of cussing and insults he fit into the rant was so impressive, the gaggle of cutouts from the orchestra room gathered and peeked down the hall, watching with glee.

\---0---0---0---

Calmed once more, Henry went down the hall at a sedate pace, Bendipe tucked under his left arm. He thought he heard movement from his left, so he’d made sure to clear his hand for optimal testing. He wanted to try something and see if it worked. He didn’t quite expect the figure that took a swing at him and missed, hitting Bendipe instead and knocking a horn off. The two human figures paused. One of them, banjo in hand, winced at the missed ambush. The other one felt his world slow until all he saw was death, looming over the inky creature, telling him to aim for the nipples.

And so, he did. The banjo was used at some point, and while Henry was _busy_ , Bendipe was using that moment to repair himself. He watched the scene with the same mute horror and admiration the other had before. He honestly didn’t know one could peel someone inflicted with ink the way Henry did. He also had no idea that banjos could fit where Henry was making it go. The screeching cries of ‘it’s for my lord! You’re the sacrifice he wants!’ only made Henry get more creative.

\---0---0---0---

Henry had no idea what happened. One moment he was employing tactics that would get him put on a list and or come under fire from the Geneva convention for being cruel and unusual, the next, he was in a room. He swore that he’d only blinked once to wipe the splash of ink from ripping nipples off from his eyes. How he got to this place he had no clue. What he did know was that Bendipe was beside him, perfectly repaired and that was all that mattered. The ink being was also there, albeit cowering in a corner as far from him as the thing could get. Henry did not care about him, even when he heard quiet and confused mutters from the thing.

“You look familiar to me.” The thing said, it sounded remarkably like Sammy. But Henry knew there was no way his good pal would fall this far. What mattered more was the odd sloshing sound from above.

“He’s here,” the figure said with hushed reverence. “He’s here, he’s crawling above, my lord!” Henry frowned and tried to figure out just where the shuffling sound was coming from.

“You better not be talking about Bendy. You see this face? This is the face of a creation that wouldn’t stoop to crawling through vents. I’ll have you know that as his creator, he’d sooner slink through them. Crawling is for boring humans like me.” Henry scolded the man, pointing at Bendipe who stared at him, smile strangely dark considering the light falling on it was even.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get going. Come near me or my son again and you’ll find out what your ham strings taste like, capiche?” The clear threat in his voice had the creature nodding frantically and covering their chest. Henry found it odd considering he’d already relocated the things nipples. Whatever made it stay away from Bendipe, he supposed.

“Henry?” The thing slurred, staring up at him while he strode by. He paused, bewildered and interested.

“Is… I know… that voice. Henry? I-“  There was a sudden thunderous crash and the thing he’d decked right in the face, Bentony, he recalled,  tore into the room. Henry, fearing that the thing would get ink on Bendipe, gave the creature a pointed motion to be quiet then did what he’d been wanting to do. He quickly planted Bendipe down in front of the two of them and huddled behind Bendipe.

Bentony, apparently expecting a person or whatever to be there and only seeing one lone cutout with a mustache staring back, was rightfully confused. Henry thought he heard Bentony bubble like it was talking to Bendipe, and oh so carefully pulled a piece of beef jerky out of his shirt pocket, snacking while being sneaky. The ink being next to him stared at him through the mask in blank confusion. Honestly, the only reason he was doing this was because what he’d done to the thing was so bad it would easily outshine anything that Bentony did to him. Not only that, but it would be like kicking a wounded soldier, something Henry _did not tolerate._ So he motioned for the thing to stay silent on pain of an encore and was pleased when it nodded.

They listened to the odd sounds from Bentony go on for a minute until there were heavy footsteps stomping angrily away.

\---0---0---0---

“I’ve got you now you- oh okay… What?!” Bentony screeched at the empty room. He stormed up to the cutout, sure that he’d seen Henry right here.

“Where is he!?” Bentony demanded. Bendipe stared back at him, wide grin growing wider, but keeping silent though Bentony knew he could speak.

“Oh don’t play silent movie with me. _Talk or I’m smashing you.”_

“Sure thing, I’m not sure where he went boss, you know we can only see the direction we’re facing and all. He might have wandered off that way.”

“What way? You didn’t move or point.”

“Well boss I’d love to move and point but I’m not…uh… you.”

“What was that pause? Were you going to insult me?”

“Boss I’d love even more to point out that he’s getting away the longer you stay here.”

“Dammit you’re right. If he comes back for you, I’ll see it, or at least… _I better._ ”

“No problem boss, my peepers will be on full peep. If he makes a peep, these peeps will get a peep at it.”

“I’m going to leave before I find out whether ink can have a stroke.”

“Good luck catching him _Bentony.”_

\---0---0---0---

After the thing had left Henry picked Bendipe back up, patting him lovingly on the head and waving at the creature that sounded like Sammy. It weakly reached out to him and he quickly side stepped the hand.

“Henry wait!” It said, but Henry didn’t really want to listen, he actually really wanted to continue on, and he’d done his good deed of helping the thing out. So Henry gave it a casual wave and started down the hall. Deciding he wanted to get around faster, he pulled out his axe and took a swing. His jaw dropped when the axe shattered after the third board.

“What in the sweet and salty chicken roasting hell is this thing made out of?! Hippie tears? Stardust?” He choked out through the waves of disbelief. Shaking off his incredulity after hearing a surprised laugh behind him, where the ink guy was, he began kicking and body slamming the boards. Bendipe safely held out of reach of the violence. They came up to a point where they could either go forward towards a well-lit door or down a corridor. Bentony bursting out of the ink, screeching like a drunk, angry whale made the decision for them. Henry hauled ass down the corridor, sprinting to keep Bendipe out of its reach. He knew he’d escaped when he heard a door slam behind him but kept going just in case.

He finally stopped running, skidding to a halt at the sight of a soup can rolling across the floor. When he looked up to see the culprit, he was suddenly very glad that if the cops did come here, he wouldn’t have to worry about being framed for a toon murder. Boris looked between him and Bendipe, confusion in his eyes. Henry returned the stare with a suspicious squint. He’d already had two things act as a threat to Bendipe. The next one was going to learn a life lesson in picking fights with things far out of their league.

“I see your taste is as poor as your creator, Boris. Good to know. It makes me feel better considering the thing wearing my creation’s face is so poorly drawn I’d believe it if someone told me he was what happens when that shoddy piece of work upstairs eats true Mexican food laced with laxatives.”

The indignant screech from behind the door and surprised snort he got form Boris told him all he needed to know about Boris’ chances of hurting Bendipe. They were nil. Boris, much like Joey, knew when to not tempt fate, also known as Henry’s wrath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see any of these in their native habitat, just go to the series and go to the oneshot collection. I won't be adding all Bendipe things here, just the main 5 chapters. Plenty more to see in there if you so choose.


	3. Thirds, thrice, tres,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of Bendipe and the scruff lord Grandpa who heard of sitting on rocking chairs and wasting away and laughed at the idea while bench pressing toddlers.

Henry officially did not care for ink or the things within said ink. He also wondered just when the studio got so big. That wasn’t the biggest question at the moment however, and so he shuffled it aside while adjusting Bendipe in his grip. He’d just finished ‘escaping’ Bentony, though that hadn’t been so hard. Apparently Bentony hadn’t expected Henry to go into a rage at seeing a splotch of ink on Bendipe’s face and flat out punt a barrel right at _his_ face. Bentony, soon to be renamed to something even sillier because he still wasn’t forgiven, had gone down _hard._ He hadn’t come back up until Henry was led to a door with a living Boris. How Boris was suddenly alive, Henry didn’t care to ask. That machine was so poorly built he wouldn’t be surprised if it pumped out pathetic copies in a sad attempt to be something not designed by a toddler hopped up on coffee.

Now, Henry remembered Boris. Boris was rather antagonistic towards Bendy, always spooking him or picking on him. Therefore, he’d been entirely justified to not trust the creation of the ass that had lead him here in the first place. Boris had gestured for him to follow and then had basically demanded he make soup in order to be allowed to leave. He’d given Henry a place to rest for a while though, and had allowed Henry plenty of time to sleep. After that though, the demand for soup was shoved at Henry once more. Henry, knowing the axes in the studio were made of what had to be drift wood, scrap metal and a sneeze of glue with how fragile they were, had no real ability to “request” otherwise. Bendipe at least seemed highly amused by everything. His static grin looked a bit less ‘just drawn there’ and more genuine. Boris didn’t seem to be too comfortable with Bendipe around but Henry didn’t care.

After shuffling around and gathering a few things of soup, falling asleep partway to walking back to start heating up the soup and waking up to find a fully cleaned—minus the ‘stache-- Bendipe and Boris peeking at him from the doorway a little ways away. He figured he’d been out for an hour, the nap he’d had earlier clearly not enough, and didn’t bother to apologize. He simply wiped the drool off his face, happily greeted Bendipe and Boris, and dropped the soup into the pot. Boris had guzzled down the soup, to the fascination of both Henry and Bendipe, and then had given them the lever to escape. Henry immediately knew where Boris got that annoying habit and had whispered

“He gets the need to make you do inconvenient, annoying, and pointless things, from his dad. Don’t ever let him do that to you Bendipe, you’re top dog here.” To Bendipe. Bendipe, to his credit, had just stared like he’d been doing, so Henry gladly took it to mean he was listening. He was listening too, it’s just, telling Henry was something he _couldn’t_ do, but he figured that was pointless anyway.

\---0---0---0---

Boris had decided that coming with the two was a good idea, or, more realistically, an entertaining one. He led the way, pausing to stare pointedly at the little miracle station. Henry had been more interested in actively arguing with “Bendipe” about whether he could carry Boondknee as well. He swore the cutout was daring him to make a sound and he carefully shook his head. Henry eventually did notice the thing, put Boondknee in it, declaring him safe now, and then he and the Bendy cutout continued. Boris thought he heard screeching from the walls, but not the angry kind. He very carefully chose not to point that out and hurried to follow.

\---0---0---0---

The three peered into the dark corridor with varying expressions. Bendipe, mustache perfectly in place, stared at the door frame because that’s the direction he was facing. Boris looked nervous and entirely unwilling to move until he could see better. Henry, the most fragile out of all of them, looked ready to just walk right in. He did, in fact, start ahead until Boris stomped his foot, looked around him, and held up a rather hefty looking flashlight. Henry obediently walked back and took the flashlight, turning it on and pointing it down the corridor. He then spent a solid minute silently staring, as if trying to figure out how to word what he was thinking.

“Boris, this thing couldn’t light up a shoebox much less this entire area,” Henry hefted the light up and down a bit, testing the weight; his expression changed. “Oh never mind, this is perfect. It’s like the bat I wish I had! Thanks Boris.” He said and Boris got the distinct impression he shouldn’t have given the thing to Henry.

\---0---0---0---

Henry stared at the door that stubbornly refused to open. He looked around for a panel and instead spotted a comically huge grate. He’d looked at the door, looked at Bendipe, looked at Boris, and then back at the door. He seemed, at least to his silent watchers, to be debating on what level of violence would be required to open the door.

“Does anyone have a wrench of some sort? Or, maybe know someone really strong?” He asked them, knowing they wouldn’t answer. To prove him right and wrong at the same time, Boris ignored him in favor of the grate and crawled into the vents. Henry rather belatedly noticed Boris did not take the flashlight, and by this point wondered if Boris had been hoping that Henry would be weighted down by the thing and would be an easy kill. After dealing with the ink thing claiming to be Sammy he felt he was justified in being suspicious. He really did hope Sammy was alive to forgive him for doing what he did to ensure Bendipe’s safety. The door opening and Boris not returning drew him back from his thoughts and he was met with a flat out unnecessary Bendy head drawn on the wall down the hall. He looked at Bendipe, he looked at the Bendy face, he looked at Bendipe, and he slowly pulled out his brush, and the tiny bottle of ink he’d found.

\---0---0---0---

It would be much later that Bonchie, formerly Bentony, would find the drawing and would have to stick his head into an ink portal to scream where no one could hear. What else was he supposed to do when presented with his on model face now sporting a pencil thin mustache and a beret that was comically tiny and perched on one horn? Bonchie was fairly certain it was ‘Benchie the frenchie’ written underneath that got him to just give up.

\---0---0---0---

Henry looked at the huge toy factory in awe. He couldn’t recall seeing such lavish mismanagement of funds in _years_. He didn’t think he could get more impressed with how shoddily designed the place was but boy was he wrong. He noticed the giant Bendy plush and put Bendipe down to flop onto the plush and held his breath until the dust settled.

“Worth it, that was worth it. It’s like being hugged by an old friend. A dusty friend but a friend none the less. Bendipe, if we make it to Joey, remind me to spare him one punch for commissioning this.” Henry’s voice was muffled under the arm of the Bendy plush but it was heard none the less. Henry’s gaze lazily wandered about the room, taking in everything while Bendipe watched beside him. Henry watched the ink waterfall, entirely unsurprised the machine was so poorly built it was jacked up even this far down. He bet his entire life savings that the thing had all the finish of that French tank from the first Great War, the Saint-Chamond if he remembered right. It looked ugly, it functioned poorly, and it was bested by the dumbest thing imaginable. Where that tank had been bested by slightly larger trench openings and potholes, the ink machine was bested by its’ own ink.

He heaved himself up, not minding the dust bunnies clinging to his ink stained clothing, and moved forward. Now, he could have said many things about a “Heavenly Toy’s” factory being in the belly of a defective and clearly demonic in cliché ways studio. He didn’t however, because he had better things to do. Like mock the clearly sub-par design work.

“Oh how ever shall we be sure that everyone knows this is a factory Mr.Drew?” Henry changed the pitch of his voice to be higher and then dropped it to respond to himself. “Gears my friend, gears everywhere. Make it look like a machine projectile vomited its innards all over the walls! No, _no_ , don’t make them useful or functional. That is simply going too far.” Henry laughed, once more without smiling, at his own little joke. It was at that point he noticed the giant Bendy on the back of the main machine in the middle of the room. He looked at it, looked at Bendipe, looked at the pocket with the brush and tiny ink pot, and then back at the giant Bendy. Bendipe watched a tiny bead of sweat roll down Henry’s temple and suddenly wished he could talk. Henry looked at the giant gap between him and the Bendy drawing, and honest to ink _whined_. Unable to do what he wanted, which was draw, he sent one utterly devastated look towards the towering Bendy drawing and shuffled forward.

\---0---0---0---

The resulting scream of “Every machine in this damn place was designed by a dartboard and drunk architects! Joey can’t-design-a-box-much-less-a-conveyor-belt Drew, when I get to you I’m going to drown you in your own incompetence!” upon seeing the next room was so great, a lone searcher hiccupped in surprise three floors up.

\---0---0---0---

“Bendipe, if I don’t make it, please, roll Drew in ink and throw him in a vat of glitter.” Henry spoke like a man who was on his last legs. Bendipe smiled like he hadn’t seen such entertainment in years.

\---0---0---0---

Henry listened to the tape, poked the strange ink thing with his brush a couple times, and then got the, in his words, shoddiest excuse of a belt system working. Then, just to spite whatever needed the thing next, sacrificed a few more plush toys and jammed the belts back up.

Once entering the next room, he immediately spotted a problem. The room looked like it was made by an Alice Angel fanatic. Now, one of the only things he  knew about Alice was that she was supposed to be the fake kind of sweet. That sweet that’s so blatantly sour that it reverts back to sweet. He set Bendipe down, and then activated “Operation: I can’t believe this works”. Namely, he sat down behind Bendipe and suddenly was invisible to everything hostile. Now, what he didn’t know, was that upon using that tactic, Bendipe gained an expression only a demon could have. It flat out _vowed_ agony to any sorry drop of ink that so much as touched Bendipe. As such, everything that wasn’t missing all but two brain cells avoided the ever loving hell out of that cutout.

Moments later Henry was proven right to start up his method of hiding because the door behind him slammed closed and Alice Angel’s song kicked on along with the televisions in the room.  The lights went out and Henry let out a quiet sigh, it appeared like every single person he’d run into had to be a diva. First it was Bendipe, but Bendipe was forgiven. Then it was Bonchie who learned a thing about surprise scares. Sammy, the searcher things, the list went on. Apparently he was going to be adding whoever had a crush on Alice Angel to the list next. As the song carried on, he got the distinct impression something was going to try and jumpscare him, and the prankster in him figured ‘why not?’ so he carefully inched Bendipe closer to the glass across the room. He stopped once he was halfway away, and then hefted up the axe head he still had with him. Scrap metal held together by glue fart it may be, it would still work for his plan.

There was a scream that overlaid the song, there was the sound of something slamming on glass, and Henry waited just long enough to hear the sudden pause and confused noise. Then, with practice he’d gained from the war, he popped up, and flung the axe head at the glass as hard as he could. The blade shattered the glass and the woman screeched. Of course the blade turned to fairy dust after doing its job but he loved it none the less. Especially since it had allowed him to one up someone without punching them. Or… doing what he’d done to Sammy. Really, he truly hoped Sammy could forgive him. The banjo had just been the closest thing on hand, and he’d panicked.

“What?!”

“Oh wow. What? Did your artist sneeze on you while inking you in? Alice you look like you fought a bear trap and lost. You-“ Henry decided treating her politely simply wasn’t going to happen, so he buried the metaphorical hatchet and went for broke. Alice angrily banging on the glass and snarling at him made him pause.

“You horrid creator! You’re the reason I’m like this!” She screeched, her voice reaching octaves that would have opera singers proud. Hell, Henry was impressed, then remembered she was a singer, and then continued to  impressed.

“Alice, first of all, you started it. Second of all, it’s wonderful to see you. I wish I could say you look great but we both know I’d be lying.” Henry felt a part of him wonder why he didn’t like her when he had no reason to not like her. The larger part punted that part into a vat of reality and harshly gestured to the door that had slammed closed behind him and then at the clear evidence that she had been planning on startling a frail old man. Granted, he wasn’t really frail, but she didn’t know that and thus, it was rude. She looked ready to tear his face off and wear his flesh like a pelt, but instead she heaved out a large sigh, and between one flicker of the lights and the next, she was gone. Instead, an intercom he couldn’t see and didn’t bother to look for kicked on.

“Such a rude fly I’ve caught in my web. Perhaps a walk with the angels will cure you of that _sin_.”

Henry arched one eyebrow and picked Bendipe up. Bendipe, who had been so upset that he couldn’t point and laugh at Alice and was so glad the creator was back because no amount of drinking game Tuesday could match up to this. The door opened, and he was carried out by the greatest dad ever.

\---0---0---0---

It was no surprise that Henry picked the demon path. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he changed which sign pointed to which path before he left though, and, to at least to two people, it wasn’t. He’d listened to the tape Joey had left, had  found the nearest dry spot to safely place Bendipe, and then had hysterically laughed at the tape, not even the hint of a smile could be found on his face.

“Well I tell you what Joey, I believe I’m going to be punching you in the pelvis when I find you. I believe that you’ll wish you’d never called me back. I believe I’m going to carve your ass like a pumpkin and _you_ can believe no amount of prayer will save you.” Henry spoke plainly, a no nonsense look on his face. Sure, he figured violence was not the answer, but it was a great addition to certain retorts. He wondered, while he retrieved Bendipe, if all the bacon soup he’d horked down had anything to do with his increasing saltiness.

\---0---0---0---

They walked along the absurdly long path until another Bendy cutout popped out and Henry paused. He swore he heard a hiss come from Bendipe but decided that was from one of the god-awful pipes in the walls instead. Henry turned the corner and blinked at Boris. Boris who looked expectantly at him. Boris who had very clearly been trying to startle Henry. Henry had news for Boris.

“Bendipe already did that Boris. It was a solid effort, but it was wasted on me. I appreciate the form though, it was very seamless.” He informed Boris. Boris slumped a bit and whined. Henry pat him on the shoulder and continued on, figuring Boris would follow like the strange brain child of Joey’s that he was. Boris offered him a pipe and Henry let out a noise that reminded the listeners of a balloon deflating and a person on the edge of hysterics. He politely gave it back and opened the door. Boris thought to insist on it but the two cutouts were giving him rather terrifying looks, so he let it go.

The room they walked into made Henry believe Alice had used this place to store everything not angelic enough.  There was a comical amount of clocks all ticking away, offending Henry down to his marrow. Why they wouldn’t make Bendy’s head go up and down to make the tick tock noise, he’d never know, but he’d always hate them for not doing. He was proven right upon finding the ink stained large Alice plush in the back corner, hidden behind a bunch of poorly placed shelves like one would a body they weren’t ready to stuff under concrete yet. He wandered back, careful to not get any ink on Bendipe and carried on to find Boris waiting near a stone Bendy statue.

“Do…you think this was Joey’s way of being less lonely? He said I was his good friend and then told me I was one of his only friends. Do you think he was using Bendy to pretend I was still around? I really hope not. I don’t need to add ‘treated my brain child like a stand-in’ to the list of reasons to make Joey eat his own pancreas.” Henry told Boris. Boris gained the look of someone that had sniffed a mysterious sock and regret it immediately.

“Yeah, Joey wasn’t that looney, you’re right. He probably did this to be sure no one could forget what Bendy looked like on model. He went a bit far with it, but he didn’t go to any classes on interior decorating…” Henry got an eyeful of the wires leading to a switch and then what was likely another switch down the hallway around a corner. He may, or may not, have spent five solid minutes questioning Boris on how drunk Joey had been while making the place. Boris had no answers. Boris wished he had something to wipe the scarily blank look off of Henry’s face. Bendipe smiled on.

Henry eventually figured he had to use inconvenient design #33 and trudged down the hall. He spotted a poster for characters he didn’t recognize after turning the corner, and the war vet in him perked up. He placed Bendipe down and strolled forward, there was no way he was risking his devil damnigo. His inner war vet was proven correct when a new ink creature tore out of a hole in the wall. It screamed. Boris down the hall screamed. Bendipe geared up to watch. Bonchie waited. Henry, who realized if he hadn’t left Bendipe back where he had, would have lost Bendipe to the things mad swing, lost it.

“ _Have you lost your mind? Get your ass out that stupid fu-_.” Henry dragged the creature out of the hole kicking and screaming and proceeded to beat the fear of old men into it. There was a point where it seemed to be trying to apologize so Henry took that as a sign to lob the sorry bastard back into where it popped out from and call for Boris to flip the switch on his side of the room. Bendipe, pristine of all ink, mustache now a permanent fixture of his face, smiled away.

\---0---0---0---

Henry had no idea when the Studio had reached such a size that an elevator was needed, but it looked like a gorgeous piece of machinery and he grinned. It was ruined when Alice’s voice came back with a  vengeance and forced him to go visit her. He definitely laughed, smile now missing from his face, at the date comment. He gave them no reason for the laughter, but the amused expression gave them all the answer they needed.

“Go on, step out of your cage. There’s a whole twisted world out here.” She said as the elevator opened up to a darkly lit room. The two stepped out, and Henry noticed all the ink splattered about the room. He noted the Bendy cutout across the way and the door across a bridge. As that was where Boris ran towards, Henry followed, slower and alert of everything.

They moved through the thick sounding door—Henry wouldn’t be surprised if the damn thing was powered by two cutouts with weights taped to their heads spinning giant wheels—and down the hall. Boris charged ahead, seemingly eager to find Alice. Henry didn’t see the appeal, there were far better things to look at after all. Like a cheese grater he swore he saw not too long ago. A violin from the music department. That one really old shoe he found in a back room that for some horrifying reason smelled like tomato juice. The list went on and on while Henry walked at a more sedated pace. He momentarily paused to consider drawing angry eyebrows on the Alice Angel cutout.

\---0---0---0---

He was so glad he’d given into drawing not only angry eyebrows but also a monocle on the cutout. The sea of cut open Boris’s and other cartoon characters was gross and uncalled for and he now knew who did the interior decorating. That wasn’t important though, what was important was the fact that Boris was just staring at his corpse. He distinctly recalled promising to make whoever did that to the Boris he’d first seen never laugh again so he was fairly glad he was about to check something off his list of things to do here. Alice started droning on about something he didn’t really care about. Henry was a man on a mission.

“It took so many of them to make me beautiful.” She said, and Henry responded.

“I love your confidence Alice! Never lose that, do try to lose the murderous tendencies though.” He called out, not too caring if she heard or not. The pause indicated she had but he could only assume.

“I had to do it. She made me.”

“Wait are you telling me there’s a gun toting loony toon threatening murder of you don’t do what they say? That’s about the only way I could see you actually being forced to do anything Alice. You’re a fallen angel, not a fallen damsel.” He replied. He didn’t much mind that she didn’t continue and carried on spending as much time as he could not going where she wanted. She had carved up Boris and he didn’t like that, not one bit. He listened to the voice actresses tape and wondered about life for a moment.

“Bendipe, if I ever get that needy and dependent towards you or Bendy, you can smack me, maybe even push me off the nearest high ledge. I won’t judge.” He figured it was a trick of the light that made Bendipe’s head twitch in a nod. Either way, he was satisfied and finally trekked over to the door. He stopped to draw a unibrow on the Alice cutout, and then he heard the unimpressed hum. He slowly turned his head, flicked Bendipe on the horn for not telling him about the audience, and cleared his throat. Alice stared at him from behind more glass, her face the picture definition of ‘not amused’.

“Now comes the question. Do I kill you? Do I tear you apart to my heart’s delight? The choices of the beautiful are unbearable.”

“Amongst other things,” Henry interrupted her, unwilling to let her get any sort of upper hand. “I mean, I’m fairly certain your ego is so unbearably strong you could use it as a weapon.” She glowered him, annoyed he’d ruined her speech…again. She was even less fond of the _thing_ he was carrying with him, and though a part of her wanted to question it, a tiny, buried part told her to let it go.

“Take this little freak for example,” She decided to power on and continue, hoping that would at least sort of spite him. She got the distinct impression it didn’t. “He crawled in here…trailing his tainted ink to my door! It could have touched me! It could have pulled me back! Do you know what it’s like? Living in the dark puddles?” She lost herself a bit in the memories, her gaze blurring, though it was locked on him still. “It’s a buzzing, screaming well of voices! Bits of your mind swimming like fish in a bowl. The first time I was born, I was a wiggling, pulsing, shapeless slug.”

“You would have hated the trenches, since you basically described them up to the slug bit.” He spoke up finally, entirely unimpressed she had ripped open a ribcage and strung up an entire room of ink creatures. He’d survived a war zone for heaven’s sake, he had every right to judge. “If you wanted to avoid tainted ink, I don’t think wading through it to string up the rejects was an entirely bright idea.”

“I will _not let the demon touch me again._ I’m so close now! So…almost perfect!” She cried out, fingers digging into the wood of the podium before her. She clearly hadn’t heard him. Henry’s face fell even further. Bendipe’s face twisted into a sinister grin. It snapped back when Henry glanced at him and remained steady even after Henry had returned his gaze to Alice.

“I’ll spare you, for now. Better yet. I’ll even let you ascend and leave this place. If you do a few eensy weensy little favors for me first.” She should have, but didn’t, expect Henry to laugh. Eerily enough, he didn’t smile at all while laughing. She really didn’t know how to take that, so she let him have at it.

“Well first of all, there are stairs leading up and I don’t _want_ to go up. Second, I know how to rewire things, learned it in the war. Got a tank so messed up it could only drive backwards. Third, I’ll do things for you if you ask nicely, I’ve got some time to spare after all, Alnerce.” Henry turned to head back out, not willing to stick around much longer. He was going to make her regret trying to demand he do stuff after leaving the body up there for anyone to stumble on. That was poor manners at the best of times. She thunked her head onto the podium and groaned, already wondering why she even bothered. Bendipe, even if he could, wouldn’t have told her it was about to get worse. He was such a sucker for his dear old creator, and demons didn’t snitch.

\---0---0---0---

“I’ll make this simple, look for valve…what… No don’t break-“ There was an impressive bang and the wooden board that acted as a blockade went flying. Henry gave the door an innocent expression, mirrored by Bendipe.

“Please don’t make me regret sparing you, I can always change my mind.” At the threat, Henry casually twisted the actuator that moved board until it let out a screech, sparks shot out and then went silent.

“Boy I don’t like blockades, they always stop me right in my tracks.” Henry spoke, a merry glint in his eyes.

“Just…get me power cores from the valves, you’re _strong_ enough to figure out how to work them, I’m sure.” A plunger appeared in what could only be a mail box repurposed to give what Henry firmly believed to be the most useless things. The plunger rested innocently on the metal flap and he looked between it, the door, and Bendipe.

“We’re really plunging headfirst into this one, aren’t we amigo?” Henry joked. Alice groaned. Bendipe stared ahead. Henry was pleased. He figured it would at least be comedic to bash things upside the head with the plunger.

\---0---0---0---

‘Beware the Ink Demon’ she had said. Henry was afraid he could never do that again. It was absolutely Bonte Cristo’s fault though. Henry had just innocently been walking, chatting away with Bendipe, and then the entire room had gone ‘Ink Machine tentacle dream’. Henry had activated his fool-proof tactic, plopped Bendipe down and had hunkered behind him with the plunger in hand. Bonte Cristo appeared, leaving gross shadowy ink tentacles all over the walls and floor and limped over to Bendipe. Henry could swear the two were having a conversation because Bonte Cristo stood in front of Bendipe far too long. He didn’t think he’d ever truly know though, and so, he’d quietly pulled a piece of jerky from his shirt pocket and munched away, content to wait.

Finally, Bonte Cristo shambled off, but not before hissing at his darling Bendipe, and Henry simply couldn’t let that go. So, waiting for Bonte Cristo to look away, he’d repeated what he’d done to Alonce. The plunger flew through the air and stuck to the back of Bonte Cristo’s head. Henry ducked down behind Bendipe and then had the longest minute of his life. It was oh so hard trying not to laugh hysterically while watching Bonte Cristo storm up and down the hall screeching angrily and flailing while a plunger swung about on the back of his head.

\--0---0---0---

The joy of being connected to every other Bendy Cutout, meant that the vision of their three dimensional off model version throwing a hissy fit with a plunger on his head was broadcast across the entire studio. It was such a sweet vision that many cutouts actually shattered from how hard they were trying to laugh and not laugh at the same time. Even being repaired didn’t erase the image, and nothing ever would. Bendipe idly wished that Henry had nailed the three dimensional one in the face instead and had a hope that the plunger would fall off so the two could retrieve it. That hope was shared among all of them. “Bendy” took note of this, screamed out “Insubordination!” at the top of his lungs, and vanished into a portal. The plunger fell off of him just before he cleared the portal, and it was indeed picked up by Henry. There was much rejoicing.

\---0---0---0---

The fact that Boris was doing exactly nothing to help Henry didn’t surprise him. Thus far only Bendipe had proven to be a true ally in the studio. Henry was finding more use out of the damn plunger; and wasn’t _that_ an insult to Joey’s creation. Hell, when Alooce demanded he give the plunger back, he’d refused and gotten her angry enough she screamed over the intercom and let him go. Telling him he’d regret not taking the wrench. So he took the wrench while she was steaming and kept the plunger and bailed out of the room. She noticed one floor later and said nothing. She thought many things, but she said nothing.

Henry had been casually going about her demands, using his tactic to avoid combat and take even more time to get around. Of course, when the supposed hoard of tainted ink creatures “came to take his Angel, he had sat back and watched from atop the machine that gave him the things she thought he’d need. He claimed it was because he was going to help her get over her fears of her fellow toons. Bendipe was told it was because she wasn’t his angel and he wasn’t a body guard. Turned out, the door held up marvelously and the toons had eventually shuffled off. To make her less upset, he had thrown the wrench at the back of one of their heads. Unfortunately that had attracted their attention and he’d been stuck perched in his high spot with Bendipe held above his head for a solid three minutes.

Henry hadn’t even bothered to touch the Tommy Gun, and with nothing stopping him, he simply nodded to let her know he was ready as ever to greet an old friend and find her a heart. Maybe it was because he’d just finished reading the Wizard of Oz, but he snorted and waited for her to finish her monologue before he’d spoke up.

“You hear that Bendipe, she’s looking for a heart. I bet the next thing we’ll be sent for are either brains, a bit of courage, or she’ll want my shoes and I’ll learn that all I had to do to get out was click my heels three times. There’s no place like home after all.”

“Oh you’ll be needing a bit of courage to survive the old friend. Be careful Henry, he’ll light you up if you aren’t.” Alice had retorted over the speaker. She then spent two minutes ranting about how she’d stooped to his level and she hated him for it, but only she and the ink would ever know about that.

\---0---0---0---

The first thing Henry did once the elevator reached the fourteenth floor was remark on the smell.

“Oh, it smells like that one time everyone in the studio was having that party, and someone got it in their heads to dare everyone to take a shot of ink. Our projectionist, Norman Polk, projectile vomited all over Wally’s shirt and pants. Sammy actually made it to a toilet but that was only because we’d had the shin-dig in the music department. Joey somehow wound up cringing so hard he actually broke his chair. See, the best part was I was fine, so I won the tiny plastic crown one of the others had pried off a doll’s head.” Henry had an affectionate, nostalgic expression on his face.

“Good times, good... sweet unholy cheddar snaps on Jesus’s nipples that is a lot of ink.” The ocean of it flat out covering the floor entirely erased the happier expression and replaced it with one of horror. There’d be very little chance he’d be able to safely take Bendipe down there without risking him getting inked.  With great despair etched into the very wrinkles of his face, Henry hugged Bendipe, made Boris vow to not do anything to hurt or damage Bendipe, and turned. Then turned back around and told Boris what would happen to him should anything happen to Bendipe, and needless to say, Boris clutched Bendipe to him and silently swore up and down he’d guard “Bendipe” with his life. Bendipe wondered how long it would take Henry to find the projectionist, and pondered if he could get Boris to give him a proper vantage point.

Luckily enough, he didn’t even have to say anything, it was the sloshing behind them that gained Henry’s attention and got him to turn around and lean over the banister to see what it was. Alice merrily informed him, as if knowing he was about to ask.

“Shhh… That’s the projectionist, stay out of his light if-“

“Norman? Oh I know that poor posture anywhere! Thirty years and you still go-oooohhhhh damn. Is, that actually Norman? Wait are you actually-. Hey Norman! Norman! Nor—Bendipe, stay there, I’m about to _plunge_ headfirst into this.” Henry told them, and Bendipe got a very nervous tilt to his smile. Sure, Bonte Cristo— and boy did Bendipe loved the new name for the off model Bendy--  could take on the Projectionist, but Henry was not Bonte Cristo. He wasn’t weak of course, but they’d all seen what the Projectionist did to things that fell under his light. Henry wouldn’t survive that sort of assault. Bendipe dearly hoped whatever his creator had planned would work.

\---0---0---0---

Henry quickly darted down the stairs and sloshed his way over to Norman. Or rather, what apparently was left of him. While he was enraged that someone had potentially gone Frankenstein on his good pal, he just put it on his list. He made sure it was high on the list upon realizing that the Sammy upstairs was likely the actual Sammy. He had a feeling he was going to find who was doing this, an even greater feeling it was Joey’s fault, and he’d deal with it when he got there. For now, he geared up for likely the dumbest thing he’d done since the war. He eyed the plunger that had served him well thus far, and compared it to his target.

“Norman!” He called out, kicking up a wave of ink that washed over the amalgamation of machine and ink and his body tensed. Norman staggered at the surprise ink bath and turned to face what had encroached into his territory. Upon seeing the offender, he let out an ear piercing screech and charged. What nobody expected but Henry, was for a plunger to fly through the air like an avenging angel and suction right onto Norman’s light. Norman _absolutely_ didn’t see it coming, and now couldn’t see at all. No one would blame him for staggering around like a cat trying to get a leaf off its head. He flailed, ink splashed, the plungers handle thunked on a wall, Bendipe and Boris watched with varied expressions, Bonte Cristo hated the plunger a little less. As it turned out, having ink for hands meant any grip ability was all but gone. Especially when dealing with smooth wood.

“Oh man, looks like your luck took a plunge there. You could say it, went down the drain. But that’s what you get when you act like a clogged toilet and stink up the place with your crappy attitude.” Henry said, Norman froze. His shoulders slumped and his projector flopped forward like he’d lost the will to hold up the weight. In fact, his entire body just sort of lost its’ imposing height and if projector speakers could sigh, there’d have been a massive one coming out of his.

“I know… that sense of humor. Henry? Why… do you have…a plunger?” Norman spoke as best he could with the body he had and Henry cheerfully strode forward.

“Alice, or whoever was made into Alice. I’ll be honest, my memory is a bit bad when it comes to her.” Henry replied.

“You are the absolute worst date I’ve ever had in my entire life… That I can remember.” Alice’s deadpan voice came over the loud speaker and Norman let out a static filled laugh. Henry inched just a bit closer and tapped the plunger handle.

“So can I take this thing off and let you out of your lights out? Or are you going to try and _plunge_ at me again.” There were far too many snorts and groans considering there were only supposed to be three people responding. Henry, too excited to care, didn’t even notice.

“Yes, you can… I think I’ve got… my wits about me. What are you…even doing down here?” Norman held still while Henry pried the plunger off his light and remained calm even after getting his vision back.

“Well my selfish date sent me down here to find her a heart, or five. I’m not surprised, she’s been pretty heartless this entire time. Do you know anything about that?” Henry began trudging back up the stairs, eager to reunite with Bendipe now that someone taller than him could hold Bendipe safely while Henry collected hearts.

“The heartlessness or the hearts? The ink takes a lot…it doesn’t give anything back.” Norman replied, following Henry up and only pausing a moment to take in Boris and a Bendy cutout with a mustache.

“Oh, well, it gave you neat pants?” Henry tried, poking Norman’s hands to test how spreadable the ink was. It was solid and almost warm, but the best part was it didn’t spread. Henry took Bendipe back from Boris’ slack grip and watched Boris scamper back into the elevator.

“I died in these, or… went into the ink with them.” Norman desperately tried not to ask about the whole scene, memories of Henry telling him it was only going to bring up more questions.

“That’s not as nice as I was hoping. Did you want to join me on my quest to find Joey and punch him really hard?” Before waiting for a response, Henry gently handed Bendipe over and gestured for Norman to lift Bendipe above his head. Norman did so, rolling with it, because that’s how one survived being around Henry.

“Of course you do, he ruined four projectors and left no less than three running upstairs. Make sure no ink gets on Bendipe, he has sensitive skin and he’s dear to me.” Something being dear to Henry  was code for ‘if anything were to hurt this thing I’d hit whoever hurt it so hard their ancestors and descendants would all spontaneously combust.” Norman, understandably, softly held the Bendy cutout above his head so the ink below wouldn’t even come close to touching it. He swore, just in  the edge of his light, the Bendy cutout looked fondly at Henry. Norman chose not to say a single thing, Bendy was Henry’s creation, and most likely took after his creator in many regards after all.

The two found the hearts in record time. The elevator ride back up was a bit cramped, and plenty awkward. Boris was trying to become one with the elevator wall, Norman was observing everything with his cleared mind, Henry was humming a familiar tune, and Bendipe stared at the two not holding him, an amused smile on his face.

\---0---0---0---

Alice knew she should have just dropped the elevator when she had the chance. She dearly wished she’d left well enough alone and hadn’t tried to tell Henry to smash the Bendy cutouts. His response to that would remain in her memories for as long as she was alive. She’d assumed his frozen stare meant he’d realized she had gained the upper hand. She had the elevator and the stairs had been ruined further up. She’d assumed wrong, and she hated herself for it. She really hated how she’d assumed she’d get sympathy for her former human condition. Henry had set the cutout in his arms down and had proceeded to use the wrench he still had to dismantle the panel controlling the door. The one she’d forgotten about, and was rooting around inside it.

The look on his face, devoid of all kindness and hardened like he was back in the trenches, scared her. What scared her more was the entirely vindictive grin on the cutouts face. It’s like the thing knew she’d messed up and was gleefully waiting to see what Henry would do to her. So she thought as hard as she could about what she could say that might calm him down. That was when the Projectionist had noted the dents, found a tiny edge he could get his hands into, and he began prying the door open by brute strength alone. A few seconds later, the door malfunctioned, its wires jacked up far too badly, and it gave into their assault. Boris and her shared the dropped jaw and disbelieving stare. Henry had then picked up the damn cutout and stormed inside.

Sheltered behind her shuttered glass room the way she was, she had hoped she’d be safe. There was no time to try and tear up the path leading to her. She looked around for something, anything, to get him to calm down, but found nothing and wished with everything she had that she’d just killed him when she had the chance. Then, she recalled a stray bit of conversation and slammed her hand down on the intercom button.

“Henry, I change my mind, the cutouts can stay, they’re great! They really lighten up the place! I—oh sweet mercy, listen! Just… you said you wanted to punch that traitor? Joey Drew? I know how you can get to him! You need the elevator! You need me to press- okay you don’t need me, you’re perfectly capable of… that was made of metal…how…” She broke off into a scream when the shutters in front of her were smashed, bent, and torn off their weak frames and the light of the Projectionist flooded her safehouse. Though, with how easily they tore the thing up, it might as well have been made of cardboard.  She numbly wondered if the glass would even slow them down, but considering the fact that Henry had already gotten to work and she could clearly hear the glass screaming in its frame, she didn’t hope.

Sure enough, the glass shattered within four hits by the both of them and she scrambled back, using the podium as a shield. The two towered over her crouched form, the damn cutout staring at her from a few feet away. Henry didn’t say a single thing to her, he simply allowed the Projectionist to watch her while he got to work figuring out the controls and ripping out the brake control. She wondered if he knew she’d been planning to drop him in the elevator but didn’t open her mouth. If he was going to ignore her, she was going to take the chance to scrounge through the scant memories she had of him to figure out how she could escape this alive. After tinkering a bit more with the board, he finally turned to her.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to do whatever it is you do when you aren’t high on your ego and ink fumes. I, Norman if he wants, and Boris, if he wants, we’re going to go down further. Because I don’t make idle threats. If I ever hear from you again, I’m going to make you wish you’d never slugged your way out of the ink. I don’t like you Alice. Don’t think I’m sparing you out of pity or remorse. Its because you’re suffering enough to satisfy my spite.” He maintained a steady but dark tone through his warning, and she hastily nodded. With what he’d done to the podium, she had no ability to demand or do anything. Especially not with the Projectionist right there, ready to crush her skull. Henry turned, picked up the damn cutout, and he and his old friend left her ruined safe house.

By the time she managed to shakily wobble her way to a standing position, they’d gotten onto the elevator and were on  their way down. She looked down the hall, and felt a hysterical laugh build up. The Alice Angel cutout with the unibrow had the plunger stuck to its forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just realized i should be titling these chapters better...eh. You hear that? It's the sound of plot on the horizon.


	4. Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot looms ever closer, much like horror looms ever further over the Studio as it realizes just how far up shit creek it is.

“So to clarify, that really was Sammy, our looney Sammy… That I abandoned for dead upstairs. With not a thing to defend himself. Not even a banjo.”

“Henry this is the fourth time you’ve mentioned banjo’s while recounting your story. Just what did you do with the thing?”

“Norman, war taught me many things. It taught me how to fix things, like your sound system. It taught me how to make light of horrid things, like the current situation. But most of all, it taught me that creativity is key to surviving when your piece of shit weapon breaks or jams and all you have is a trench knife and a lot of anger. I did things Norman. I did things that would make, and did make, grown men cry, beg, flee, and surrender at the very sight of me. What do _you_ think I did with a banjo?”

“Sweet shit I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t hug me until I put Bendipe down. How are we going to go back and get Sammy? I can’t just leave him behind.”

“Well, we could take the elevator and try and look around the last place you saw him?”

“Bendipe, Boris, this is non-negotiable. We’re going back up so we can find- _what the saint sniffing ass crack is happening to the wall?!_ ” Henry watched the wall nearest the elevator, which had been patiently waiting for them to step off at the lowest level they’d reached thus far, warp a deep black. Norman quickly put himself in front of Henry, more out of habit than anything. He was the only one to take on Bendy and live, so if Bendy was indeed on the way, or… Boonine… Norman would be more than glad to act as a first like of defense. Instead, out flopped the person they’d just been talking about.

“There you are! Henry you son of a bitch!” Sammy Lawrence, still wearing his Bendy mask but looking far more put together than anyone had ever seen him, stumbled to his feet. He froze at the sight of Norman, clearly debating if Norman was a threat or not. Norman’s response was to wave. As an added bonus, and insult towards Sammy, Norman used the new feature Henry had put on him. He blasted ‘Stuck in the Middle with You’ from his speaker. Having a radio added to his body was the best thing that had ever happened to him since becoming a seven-foot-tall ink creature. He played the line “clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right” extra loud. Sammy tossed his arms into the air and gargled nonsensical insults at him.

“I finally find you, and you’ve fixed up Norman, still have that cutout, and have Boris? Just what have you done Henry?” Sammy shouted over Norman’s music, Norman let out a healthy laugh in reply.

“Well you see, since uh… having that scuffle with you-“

“You mean ripping my nipples off and relocating them to my forehead with banjo string. Henry I’ll never be able to go near a banjo again, that was my favorite instrument, you sadist!”

“Sammy it’s great to see you not dead! Boris hold Bendipe.” Henry passed his precious cargo over and wasted no time in hugging Sammy. Sure, he could be annoyed that he was the shortest person of the group, but that would be poor sportsmanship. He chose to focus on the fact that Sammy only flinched a little at his approach before losing all his anger in a great slumping motion and readily accepting the hug. Giving it a few good moments before letting go, Henry savored having old buddies back with him. He really had missed the whole gang. He hoped, but didn’t hope, that he’d find more. On one hand, more old friends, on the other, more reasons to rip Joey’s testicles off and turn them into a decorative tiara.

Taking Bendipe back, Henry began leading them all deeper into the studio. Sammy followed behind Norman like a lost but very grumpy old man, grumbling the whole time.

\---0---0---0—

Walking so much took a lot out of someone not made of ink. As such, Henry had requested they pause before going much further so he could rest. The two former humans didn’t even hesitate to agree to a brief reprieve. Boris was suspiciously silent, Henry wouldn’t be surprised if Boris had done nothing but judge him this whole time. They led him down the hall where Grant Cohen used to stay and broke the door across from his office open. Norman and Sammy watched Henry prop Bendipe up then duck behind him, leaving only his fingers visible. They watched him reach one arm back out to pat Bendipe on the arm, then within a minute or two, quiet, even snores filled the air.

Boris wandered off while the other two ink creatures quietly chat outside the room, trying to minimize the amount of sound that got into the room while keeping guard all the same. Few things were dumb enough to take on the Projectionist, and Sammy had a way of guiding the searchers away with a simple wave of his hand. An hour or so later, not that they cared much, Henry was waking back up, making a rather impressive cacophony of cracking and creaking sounds just by stretching out and standing back up. Bendipe stared at them, grin a bit less wide at the clear indication of Henry’s age.

Henry picked Bendipe up, checking him over first for any ink stains or scuff marks. There were none, not that Bendipe had to worry about those things. It would just repair itself when he wasn’t looking and be perfect once more. Henry shuffled over to the other door after greeting the three of them, expression dazed from sleep but movements spry. The three had no idea how he did it, nor did they want to ask. He opened the door across the hall and took a long moment to just take everything in.

“So…” Henry shuffled further in so the others could join him, the three of them looked at the ‘Taxes’ and ‘Time is money’ written all over. “This where we shoved the finance department?” He asked. Sammy snorted and Norman leaned back a bit to look up at the ceiling, a bit disappointed it wasn’t covered as well.

“I think so, don’t recall Grant being the accountant though.” Norman said, nudging at a few things on the desk. He accidentally hit the recorder during one poke and the four of them listened to the strange gurgling sounds.

“Did—did I just hear an ink slug lose its virginity?”

“God fucking dammit Henry.”

“This is why we can’t take you anywhere where being serious is required.”

“Good thing we’re in a cartoon studio then!”

“Dammit.”

Bendipe stared ahead, grin so wide his eyes were squinted.

\---0---0---0---

“Son of a bitch done took the door handle. What twisted toon does that!?” Henry wildly gestured to the missing turn wheel on their only way out. They’d all realized Boris was missing about half a minute after getting over what Henry had said about the tape.

“Maybe he’s just in the vents?” Sammy offered. Norman pressed his weight against the door, trying to see if it was closed or not. When it didn’t budge, the four wandered back to the rooms they did have access too. There was but a single annoyed grunt from Henry when Norman’s light fell on the missing wheel they had all apparently missed. Trudging their way back, slapping the wheel back on, turning it, the quartet finally got further into the building’s depths. Or, the archives if the sign was correct. Henry was genuinely surprised when it was, none of them blamed him.

What did surprise him were the inky mannequins posed in various odd positions. He gave the statement above it a hearty squint of disbelief.

“He will set us free seems to be a popular phrase around here. But all I’m seeing is the worlds longest game of red light green light. You got this fella’s! That statue has got to blink at _some_ point!” Henry poked at one of the mannequin’s feet, grimacing when his finger went into the surface and came out covered in ink.

“He has the power to do so, Henry. Bendy, the one that wanders, the one you ate jerky while hiding from.” Sammy spoke up, catching Henry’s attention.

“Sammy, that would be Boonine. Please address that sorry excuse for a Bendy correctly. No child of mine would look like a person with a gimp suit fetish and spinal implants that’d make any dinosaur jealous.”

“Boonine… Well alright then, he can manipulate the ink, it helps that I’m fairly certain Joey is in him.” Evidently whatever Sammy said was enough to make Henry freeze mid step, gaze going blank. The cutout gave the two a dark grin. Norman and Sammy, who’d never seen the thing actually move, got the distinct impression they’d done something they shouldn’t have.

“Are you telling me that within that off-model mistake is the guy that couldn’t even greet me at the door when he requested I show up? He… Bastardized my Bendy?” Henry’s voice was low, threatening, and very, very grave. The two glanced at one another and hesitantly nodded.

“We can’t think of another reason why that one would be so powerful. Usually only human-ink amalgamations are as strong as he is.” Norman hesitantly responded, his light dim with nervous tension. Sammy crossed his arms across his chest, not so subtly defending his chest from potential repeat violence.

“Well then!” Henry spun around, entire body radiating a happy excitement. They carefully noted that the cutout didn’t change its expression at all, if anything, the grin grew. “We better get going. I’ve got appointment with Mr. Drew and I’d hate to miss it!”

“Please tell me you’re going to do worse to him than what you did to me.”

“Gladly.”

“Thank you.”

\---0---0---0---

“So what this tells me is if there’s a fire, the only way you’ll be able to get out is by running through the flames to solve the book lock, hope the burns don’t kill you, hope the smoke doesn’t blind you, and if either does get you, oh well.” Henry shoved the last book that stuck out oddly into its’ place.

The other three had been poking around the room, Sammy having never gone this far down, Norman never being in this general location. They all gave a moment to think about Henry’s point, realized that indeed, the archives were a death trap, and continued on. The fact that it was one of _many_ death traps made getting over the realization easy. Sammy went back to the tape recorder they’d all been ignoring simply because they weren’t sure who they would hear. Deciding it couldn’t hurt to start the thing, he pressed play. The voice of Susie Campbell drifted out, and the quartet listened to her clear descent into insanity with equal amounts of surprise.

That is to say, none. There was zero surprise.

“Okay both of you and that Alice person were different when I found you. Is the ink doing that or is it the cheesy magic circles doing that?” Henry, seeing the opportunity for what it was seized it. It wasn’t like they had better things to do.

“I remember trying to leave, Sammy started getting too strange for my tastes and it wasn’t exactly easy sharing a workspace with a band. I guess I didn’t make it, but I don’t remember much past handing in my resignation.” Norman’s projector head tilted down in thought.

“It’s called being passionate about what you do. But, now that I think about it, Joey had been handling the coffee machines before everything went to hell. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been drugging us. I can’t say much for the voice actors though, no idea what Susie is going on about being Alice.” Sammy mused, scuffing one pant cuff on the floor idly.

“Hey didn’t you have a crush on her voice?” Norman nudged the man, mechanical voice lilted in a teasing way.

“Well of course, I’m a musician, I praise music and she knew how to hold a tune. That’s more than can be said for some other voice actresses of the day. I swear, the first time I heard that Betty character sing I thought I was going to redecorate my living room with the cereal I’d just had. It was atrocious!” Sammy tossed his hands in the air, nearly knocking Norman’s head loose. Henry decided it was high time to get moving before any bland drama began and loudly cleared his throat, striding towards the door and prying it open.

He carefully didn’t mention the weird freak out that had hit him mid puzzle and made him see what had to be safes for important documents go bonkers. He really didn’t want to think the ink fumes in the air were getting to him. If they were, he hoped he’d turn into something that didn’t drip ink. Bendipe, who’d seen the stutter in his creator’s step, relaxed with the knowledge that beyond the door marked private was fresh air. Cave air, but fresh and not inky in the slightest. An ink-addled Henry would be the worst thing Bendipe, and all the other cutouts, could imagine. Somewhere in the ink, lost to the grip of a demented man, a little devil darling agreed with the cutouts.

\---0---0---0---

“So, quick question.”

“Yes, Henry?”

“Did Joey put a nightclub in here?”

“Why do you ask, Henry?”

“Well, I can’t help but notice the cages dangling precariously above an abyss. And the only thing that comes to mind, are those weird cages women in nightclub’s dance in.”

“How do you know what’s in those clubs, Henry?”

“I have ears and friends that love them. You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, Henry. He didn’t put a nightclub in here.”

“Not even a bar?”

“Not even a bar.”

“Oh.”

\---0---0---0---

 Making a gear from an ink creatures zit was about as gross and strange as Henry thought it was going to be. He may, or may not, have used Bendipe as an excuse to not touch it and let Norman handle the delivery to the strange little machine. Then came the issue of the rickety old cart on a cable that rained rust. It screeched along the line towards them, jerking every once and a while on a catch. Henry would sooner eat his own ink covered shoes than put Bendipe on that thing. He was eventually convinced by Sammy who promised to avenge him and Bendipe if the thing collapsed before they made it. Norman and Sammy then opened up a portal and melted into the wall.

“That’s just unfair.” Henry griped, clutching Bendipe close and trying to decide if he would be able to throw Bendipe to safety if the cart gave out. There was a brief moment of panic; the cart rocked dangerously, Norman and Sammy both lurched for the edge, as if they’d be able to catch at least one of the two if it gave out, but the cart made it. Henry stepped out, reclaimed Bendipe from Norman, and very pointedly didn’t say a thing about what had just happened.

He also pretended the stumble into the wall when everything went hands up in the hallway was merely old man joints protesting too much. Sammy didn’t look like he believed Henry, though that was hard to tell through the mask. Henry was quite glad they finally reached a level that wasn’t even sort of boarded up properly from nature, allowing natural air flows to clear the ink fumes out. He just had to keep clearing his lungs and hope for the best.

“I see you there, my little errand boy.” Everyone froze, Henry got a face full of Norman’s inky back, Sammy had to pry him out.

“Your Angel is always watching.” Alice’s voice filtered through speakers none of them cared to look for. Henry was quick to recover.

“He is! It’s why I carry him the way I do! Isn’t that right Bendipe?” Henry spoke, lighthearted even through the ink that was taking more than a swipe or two to come off.

“Okay, what is it that keeps you going? Is it the thrill of the hunt? The thirst for your freedom? The sick pleasure at knowing your methods give others headaches? Or perhaps… You’re just looking for a little, friendly, wolf. Better hurry, errand boy-“

“Alice. Before you dig a deeper grave, it’s the first one. I’m thrilled to be hunting for Joey so I can punch him so hard in the pelvis, the bone turns to dust. Boris isn’t mine, he’s also not all that friendly. The true Alice would know that. So I’m really starting to doubt you even know her character.”

“Excuse you.”

“No, no. Now here’s what’s going to happen. I warned you the last time we met, evidently that warning didn’t stick. I’m going to find you, I’m going to knock you upside the head until whoever is under that ink comes through, and then I’m going to smack her.” There was a lengthy pause after Henry’s declaration.

“That’s not very gentlemanly.”

“You aren’t very angelic.”

“Fine, you like hunting? Then let the hunt begin!” Henry, who’d begun stomping up the stairs, Sammy and Norman following along, just nodded in response. His mild expression not fooling Alice in the slightest.

\---0---0---0---

Norman knew that there were souls who’d managed to dig their way out of the ink just enough to stay in one shape, but he had no idea the majority of them stayed on the lowest floors. He watched them stare at Henry, quiet noises of varying pain or acknowledgement filtering from their mouths. Henry seemed to be torn between poking one and keeping Bendipe from the ink running down their bodies. It was nice to know Henry’s love for his toon hadn’t changed at all.

He continued to do what he’d always done and watch his companions realize the only way to the next area was through a vent. One that Bendipe wouldn’t fit through. By this point, the lost ones had turned to face the group, some even shuffling closer. Sammy sent them a mean glare through his mask, unwilling to deal with the crazy that came with interacting with one. He had to agree, touching one tended to open the floodgates to all lost souls. Nothing but endless screams, wails, cries, and pleas for it to end. It was miserable, so if hefting himself to his full height would keep them at bay, he’d do it. Besides, Norman thought, with the warpath Henry was on, these people wouldn’t be suffering for much longer.

He was the one that took Bendipe this time, Henry, apparently more worried for Bendipe than crawling through a vent properly, had climbed in feet first. Realizing his mistake too late, he’d shrugged and given the two a wide grin.

“I guess if anything is looking to surprise me, they’ll just get a good kick in the face instead.” He joked before pushing himself into the vents further, waving goodbye to the lost souls in the room. Norman swore he heard one lost soul whisper Henry’s name but couldn’t be sure. Opening a portal, he and Sammy used Bendipe to tell them where to open the portal back up. Both of them were highly unnerved by the fact that the cutout’s pie-cut eyes were in fact moving. It was as if the longer it spent near Henry, the more alive it became. Neither wanted to guess the implications of that hypothesis, but neither were willing to get rid of the thing. Henry would make them wish they’d never regained their senses.

Even more interestingly, the voices usually screaming in the void of ink were muted as long as both stayed near the cutout. Considering they’d never experienced that before, they wondered if it was due to Henry influencing the cutout, which influenced the ink. Or if it was something else entirely. Whatever it was, they were grateful for the far more peaceful journey.

Sammy remarked about this being where Boonine found and killed them, incurring the wrath of Henry because Bendipe would be unable to leave this place without them. When they heard laughter from a toon no one had seen in years, one that neither could see, but knew from the fact that he was their poster toon, Sammy had shrieked like a baby. Norman hadn’t even had time to think before he’d been hauled out of the portal into the room that the vent would lead to. Between the vow of silence on what just happened and the panicked breathing from Sammy, Norman spared a thought as to where Henry was.

“You gimp suit wearing ass clown! That had better not be you in there Joey!” As if answering his thought, they both heard Henry’s enraged scream through the vent, heard metal being hit hard enough to break it, and then heard a surprised, pained cry from the ink demon. Bendipe’s eyes almost glittered with unbridled sadistic glee. There was the sound of something inky and huge clawing their way across a wooden floor and splashing into an ink portal, then sounds of someone crawling through a vent. If the pleased humming was anything to go by, Henry had likely kicked a vent grate right out of the wall and into the face of his warped creation. Sammy let out a chuckle. Norman heaved out a mechanical sigh.

\---0---0---0---

“Just popped out from behind the vent like it was safe! As if I couldn’t donkey kick the thing right into his smarmy face. I think I saw an eye through the hippie bangs he’s got. That’ll teach him to reduce his vision just for a silly fashion statement.” Henry scoffed, holding Bendipe under one arm, a pleased lift to his gait.

“Sounds like you stuck it to him.” Sammy joked.

“I did, the grate stuck to his face, he ran off with it.” The two ink beings snorted, or in Norman’s case, flickered in silent laughter. Boy it was great to have Henry back. For the first time in a while, both consciously agreed with the text written on the wall above the vent Henry had crawled out of. Dreams really do come true, if someone like Henry is on the case.

\---0---0---0---

“The world has never seen? Really? Evidently this guy never saw a French tank with an ugly nose get stuck in a particularly deep pothole. Now that was a colossal blunder.”

“Henry no, he said wonder. Colossal wonders.” Sammy played the tape again, Henry dutifully listened, gave an ‘oh’ of realization, and conceded to Sammy being correct. They all took in the pictures, grateful that Norman’s light was bright enough to give them an easier time reading the notes on the wall.

“I swear here and now if I find an actual steam train down here, I’m going to pull Joey’s spine out his nose. Not because of the absurdity, but because of the wasted funds that could have been spent making more cartoons.” Henry squinted at the train image, giving it a warning look. The other two dearly hoped there was a full steam train. Norman hoped the carnival would net an even better response. Sammy, who didn’t know what was ahead, took one look at the Projectionists’ far too eager stance, and braced himself for the fallout.

“Oh wait, didn’t he mention a park in that tape? I’ve never seen a cartoon themed park on the streets, what’s he talking about?” Henry questioned. If projectors could smile, Norman would be. He took what he could get however and _beamed_ at Henry.

\---0---0---0---

“Norman. Boost me.”

“What?”

“Bend down so I can get onto your shoulders.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t ask why you named all of your projectors after flowers did I? Boost me.”

Norman, blatantly ignoring Sammy’s snort did as requested. Both of them watched Henry pull a small brush from one of his pockets, then a tiny ink pot, then, with a flourish, began drawing. Sammy had given a more proper response to the underground fairgrounds than Henry had. Then again, if the clown makeup he was inking onto the Bendy on the sign was anything to go by, Henry was responding in his own way. Bendipe, leaning against a wall right next to Sammy, watched, warm smile growing wider.

\---0---0---0---

“Wally, you incompetent broccoli sprout.” Henry spoke with so little inflection, somewhere in the ink, a person flinched, calling out Henry’s name.

“Getting out of here sounds like music to my ears.”

“What ears?” Norman said at the exact same time Henry said “But I thought you wanted to hear the sweet sound of Joey apologizing.” Sammy in response, punched Norman on the arm, and nodded in agreement to Henry’s statement. The four, or rather, three able-bodied ones, broke off to do as Wally said, picking a game and playing it. Norman’s swing hit the button so hard it cracked and the bell’s ring echoed clear across the room like a gun shot.

“Tell me, are you having fun? I’m sure Boris doesn’t mind waiting for his rescue party.” Alice maliciously teased. As a reply, Henry pointedly shot each and every target with deadly precision, not missing a single center circle. Sammy took the bottles out quickly, not wanting to be the reason they were slowed down. He didn’t expect for a Bendy plush to be shoved into his arms by Henry the second he was done.

“Bendipe needs a buddy, but I need one free arm. Carry that for me, please.” Sammy dumbly nodded and clutched the plush to his chest. Norman began trying to figure out what Henry was going to name the little thing. Both took Henry’s request in stride, there was simply no other option.

They did find it funny when Henry had taken one look at the suits and screamed. Him ripping them apart to ‘cleanse the world of their ugliness’ was icing on the cake in their opinion.

\---0---0---0---

“Bertrum you absolute failure. May thousands of electricians, union workers, and pigeons all swarm you in the afterlife and deliver power punches directly into your spleen. May the pigeons obscure your tombstone so much that your name is lost to the ages.” Henry flipped the switch marked with a one while he ranted. Angry at the blatant poor design, and angrier still he couldn’t deliver a swift punch to the man’s gonads himself.

\---0---0---0---

Norman’s presence alone made the butcher gang scatter, though Sammy suspected it might have been more because one had taken but a single glance at Henry, screamed, and dove for the fire. Choosing death by flame over whatever Henry might do. Sammy, idly scratching his chest, could relate. Either way, the three had gone one way, found an animatronic, which Henry had poked at, fully expecting it to leap at his face, pouting when it didn’t.

“With each passing hour I grow more disappointed with this place.” He grumbled.

They went the other way, found the switch, then quickly moved in, eager to get the search for Alice over with.

\---0---0---0---

“What.”

“Oh wow, one whole attraction.”

“The single ride built before everything went to shit and it’s my least favorite.”

“Hey did it twitch?”

“Shut your speaker up, I’m trying to hear the angry rant.”

“ _Is that a fucking face?!”_

_“It lives!”_

**_“Vengeance!”_** With a bold warrior cry, Henry quickly but carefully put Bendipe down in a corner where he’d be safe, then dove into action. He made good on his vow to deliver a swift punch to the machines nether’s.

“Henry, no! That’s not…oh… Oh shit.”

“Yes! Finally! Someone else to suffer his wrath while I can see it!”

“Sammy! Not the time! Grab that axe and help me!”

“Help you what? I guarantee we can’t do anything that—" Sammy was interrupted by a shriek of pure confused pain. “That’s worse than what he’s doing right now.”

“Yes, but his thrashing might throw something at the cutout and _I’m not willing to join Bertrum._ ” It took only a second for Sammy to see Norman’s point, race for the axe, and take up point, guarding Bendipe with his life. It didn’t take long for Henry to relocate a few internal workings, causing the creature that Bertrum had become to let out one long scream of agony before going silent. The outer arms ceased all motion, the gears inside ground to a painful sounding halt, Henry climbed out, victory on his expression, self-satisfied glee in his step.

“Henry, did you really have to gouge his eyes out with his own jaw?” Norman weakly asked, staring at the result of Henry’s revenge in horror.

“For the good of all electricians and sane builders? Yes, yes I did.” Henry replied. Norman left it at that, finally understanding that of the creatures met thus far, he’d been the luckiest. A plunger to the face was far less gruesome than anything he’d just seen. Without a pause, Henry located the switch, and strolled back to the central room, the two followed him. Noting Bendipe’s content grin, the two decided the dancing demon was just as cruel as his creator.

\---0---0---0---

“Oh! Look at his outfit! It’s so perfect!” Henry cried out, taking in Bendy’s train conductor outfit, shedding a single tear of joy.

“Bendipe, I tell you what, I’m going to make you and Plundy that outfit and you’ll both be just as adorable.” He pat the plush and the cutout on the head, Sammy unquestioningly holding the plush out so he could.  Bendipe gained an excited twinkle.

\---0---0---0---

“ _An actual fucking train?! Joey!”_ Henry screamed, jaw dropped, eyes wide. Sammy burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. Norman sloshed through the ink, figuring he might as well get the switch while Henry was frozen. As it was, only Sammy noticed Bendipe’s sudden tight smile. Confused, he looked around. He just about choked on his own ink when a very familiar pressure descended on the room. Without pause, he hefted Henry up and shoved him into the little miracle station. Norman, having flicked the switch, noted Henry’s cry of surprise, quickly making his way back. Henry was trying to break the door down, displeased with being forced in a tiny booth.

Sammy would have been suspicious of the sudden silence when Norman let out a screech, being the first to actually see Boonine—both had agreed, after hearing the face incident, that the man deserved that silly name—and braced for a fight. Sammy weakly waved to the being, plush in arm. Boonine, or Joey, snarled back at them.

“Nice vent marks Joey, you add those yourself?” Norman, deciding appeasement was for weenies, threw caution to the wind and did what Henry would do. Boonine launched across the room and the two towering ink creatures crashed together. Sammy, unsure of what to do, stepped away from the door and tried to help Norman.

“Winter of ’29!” He cried out, Boonine, mid swing, locked up and ducked instinctively. That was all Sammy and Norman needed.

“Oh it really is you. Drew you son of a bitch!” Norman swung as hard as he could, slamming his fist into Boonine’s gut. The man turned ink creature let out a wheeze and wrapped his arms around Norman’s head. Sammy, realizing he was trying to tear Norman’s head off, was stuck, too frozen to do anything, years of mindless worship warring with current needs for revenge.

“Hey! Bowdy!” Came a voice that Sammy knew should have been behind him in the little miracle station. Boonine, now Bowdy, whipped around, loosening his hold on Norman. There was but a single moment when the two, human and former human, stared each other down.

“Joey. Do you remember what I said I’d do to you if I came back and found you’d jacked up my Bendy?” Henry said with deceptive lightness. Bowdy seemed torn between trying to intimidate him and just reaching for him. Henry’s eyes blazed with unholy wrath a split second before he was moving. It happened almost faster than any but the cutout could follow. One second Bowdy’s head was on his body, the next, it was sailing through the air. Norman, quick thinking Norman, blasted Ave Maria out his speaker while the body stumbled back and fell over. The head sailed clear across the room, skipped over the ink like a skipping stone, and sunk below the surface. Henry leaned on his pipe and kept his gaze on the body. Only giving Norman one very happy grin as thanks for the perfect complement to the swing.

“Get your ugly little ass back up. I know you aren’t done for and I’ve got debts to collect.” Henry sneered, tapping a lone finger on the pipe. Bendipe, who stood behind him though no one knew how, had a vicious grin. Norman took that moment to hold up the tape recorder he’d found and dropped before being charged. The unimpressed frown only grew on Henry’s face. True to form, the head regrew from a puddle of ink that had dripped for the neck. Joey regained sight and promptly regret growing his head back.

“Murdering my friends, bastardizing my brain-child, not greeting me at the door, funding the build of that piece of shit machine upstairs, the list goes on, Drew. But if there’s one thing you can look forward to…You’ll be dreaming of a whole lot more than tricking the masses.” Henry had a far too casual air to soothe Joey’s nerves. Deep within, he heard hysterical laughter and joyful cheers. It was the shift in Henry’s stance that was his only warning. He didn’t even have time to react before Henry and all the wrath that had been building descended on him. Norman and Sammy watched with varying horror and glee. Indeed, the various promises of pain that Henry had said, came to be. They’d _never_ talk about how he’d gotten the spine out, frankly not wanting to remember it.

The beat down would last so long even Alice would shuffle from where she’d hid and watch the show. The human part of her screaming in vindictive elation. It was only when Bowdy managed to escape due to the sheer amount of ink that was pouring out of places that shouldn’t even exist did Alice quickly return to her place, heart thudding, lips spread in a grin so wide her eyes watered. Bowdy wasn’t dead, but he’d be licking his wounds for a damn long time. Norman, Sammy—who still held Plundy to his chest—let out disappointed groans. Henry almost appeared to _let_ him run, not even bothering to come after the figure vanishing into the ink. He wiped the ink from his face, arms, behind his neck somehow… Bendipe, free from any ink splatter, unlike Sammy and Norman, stared on.

\---0---0---0---

The general mood of the group was akin to that of a pride of lions after a particularly successful hunt. Their mood wasn’t even slightly affected by Alice, who, they noted, sounded a fair bit less hostile towards Henry. Henry however, was a fair bit disappointed in how bland the horror house was, he joked about it being about as scary as his current situation surrounded by inky former humans. Alice’s mood was far too high to be killed by the potential insult. Unfortunately, that would not last. While walking through, Henry was well aware he was likely walking into an ambush, he really didn’t put it past her, so he plotted.

With some careful and quiet maneuvering, Norman took his place in the car, crunched in comically, clearly unimpressed. Henry, the second the gate opened and let him into what could only be called ambush central, proceeded to park Bendipe and Plundy into a corner near the gate, well away from potential danger. He then began using the poorly built walls in a way they probably shouldn’t have been. He scaled them and shifted until he was directly above the other gate. Norman and Sammy, not wanting to stand idly by like they’d been doing, braced.

Boris didn’t know what hit him. All he’d been able to see before being bodily thrown into the next room was a bright light. Henry, seizing his opportunity, leapt from the wall onto Boris’ back.

“Traitor!” Henry proclaimed, ripping the strange headgear clean off Boris’ body. Boris, apparently smarter than perceived, didn’t hesitate to grab Henry’s shirt before he could react and spin, tossing Henry into a stack of mystery-filled potato sacks. Sammy and Norman decided now was their time to help Henry.

“Henry! Get over to Bendipe and Plundy, we’ll handle him.” Sammy called out, darting close and delivering a solid punch directly into Boris’ snout. The wolf lurched backwards from the blow, eerily enough, not letting out a single sound other than a low growl. Norman grabbed the arm being swung at Sammy, planted one foot on Boris’ back and the other as solidly on the ground as he could, and _yanked_. The mechanisms in the arm shrieked, giving out after a brief fight, and with a spray of ink, one arm was torn off. Sammy, twisting around Boris like a snake, ripped a stray pipe from his back and bashed him upside the head repeatedly with it. Nimbly dodging the remaining arm. Norman broke from the fight to ensure Henry wasn’t anything but surprised.

Sammy was doing an impressive job of rearranging Boris’ face, the wolf barely had time to react, much less retaliate. Henry, leaning against the wall, checking his ribs for any cracks, cheered Sammy and Norman on. Norman, out of habit, let out a shriek that sent Sammy scrabbling off of Boris, narrowly avoiding Norman’s charge. Boris was sent into the track, smashing against it so hard his neck contorted to its’ shape. Sammy returned, ripping innards from Boris while Norman pinned the squirming body down. Boris never stood a single chance, or rather, what remained of him never did. Henry tried to feel bad, but Boris had done exactly nothing besides make Henry cook soup just so he could leave the safehouse. That and crawl through a vent and pull a lever, Boris hadn’t even tried helping him fight a few searchers earlier on. Therefore, he wasn’t sad.

He knew damn well Boris could fight. As it was, his back ached but that was about it. He picked Bendipe up, Plundy following suit very soon after, and started for the other two while Boris melted into the ground.

“Everything I’ve thrown at you.” Henry stopped, immediately twisting so Bendipe was behind him, away from Alice. “Everything, and you and your sympathizers have beaten it. I made him as strong as… what did you call him again? That’s right, Bowdy. You three beat him. How can you just stroll in here and do what you do?!” She stomped her foot, heel cracking the wood floor, hand clutching her weapon of choice tightly. Her breathing was heavy, as if she was fighting an internal battle.

“Honestly? I’m a cartoonist before I’m a fighter, of course I’d try to find the lighthearted way of winning!” Henry responded, ignoring Norman and Sammy’s shared scoff at being called sympathizers.

“It’s not fair!” She cried, shoulders shaking. “You were supposed to do everything we told you to. You were supposed to run and hide from the Projectionist, and instead you’re making friends! You’re pulling minds back from the ink with a _plunger_ of all things!”

“Alice, you obviously didn’t see what he did to me.” Sammy tried, he dodged the wild swing she threw at him in response, but didn’t retaliate, nor did Norman.

“Why did you decide to spare them?” She asked Henry weakly.

“I spared Sammy because I felt like what I’d done to him was enough. Seriously, those nipples were not where they currently are.”

“I can’t go near a banjo ever again. He didn’t spare me, he just kept Joey from… Bowdy, from ending me.”

“Yeah, and Norman was one of my buddies! I figured the best way to explore cartoon hell was with friends. So what better way than by seeing if I could get him out of his madness? You aren’t mad, at least, not as mad as some of the other creatures in here, so Norman had to be the same.” Henry reasoned, giving her a steady but light look. Alice looked to be debating internally, the inner fight lasting a good minute.

“Can…” She paused, looking at her feet, then looking back up. “I hate Joey, I hate that man far more than I hate you. Can I join you? I get the feeling that, if I’m around you misfits, I’ve got a better chance of fixing my imperfections.” She seemed to realize the oddity of the last sentence, her face twisting into a weakly displeased frown. Norman shrugged, Sammy shrugged, Bendipe stared, Plundy stared, and Henry nodded.

“Sure, the more the merrier!” Henry said, and that was right about the time when another Alice charged out of the gate and went at Alice with a sword of all things. Henry didn’t think, he just shouted ‘Duck!’ and threw a board near his feet at the other Alice. There was a thunk, a shout of surprised pain, then panting from another Boris charging in. Their Alice spun around and blocked Boris’ swing with the weapon still in her hand. Sammy took the chance, stomping over, grabbing Boris by the waist, and throwing him to the floor.

“I _just_ ripped the spleen out of another one of you, is attacking us really that smart an idea?” Sammy hissed, tilting his head at Boris just enough for it to be highly unnerving.

“Wait!” The other Alice cried out, getting back to her feet but refusing to drop her sword.

“Whatever you say Peter Pan.” Henry remarked, entirely displeased with the current situation. His ribs still ached, and the throw had done nothing to help it.

“Peter.. My name is Allison.” The woman snapped.

“Can I call you Tinkerbell? I feel like having an Alice and an Allison will be very, _very_ confusing. Also, we just sort of murdered a Boris, so is he an actual Boris or is he like Sammy and Norman and Alice.” Henry picked Bendipe up, deciding there was no longer a threat. Bendipe caught Allison’s eye and she jerked back.

“You’re carrying a cutout?! He can see through them! Put it away, break it!” She shouted, diving for it. Henry regret thinking there was no more threat. It was Alice that blocked Allison however, shoulder checking the woman mid-step and sending her to the floor.

“Not that one.” Was all Alice said before she realized what she’d done, hastily stepping away from Allison and Henry. Bendipe stared at her, wide grin in place, it wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t hostile and she wasn’t sure how to take that.

“Look, I’m not exactly willing to get in another fight so soon, could we all mosey before my back gives out?” Henry finally said after a long moment of silence from all sides.

“We were trying to help you, Henry.” Allison replied, helping Boris up.

“Wait, Allison was the other voice actress for Alice Angel.” Sammy spoke up, squinting at her. She stared back, not agreeing with him or denying anything. Henry gestured for Norman to come closer and slumped on him. Norman didn’t so much as lean from the sudden introduction of weight, he simply pulled Plundy from Henry’s grip, gave him to Sammy, and, unable to resist, blasted ‘Stuck in the middle with you’ once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy am I realizing just how long these things are... it's a good thing Chapter 6 is so close! That's where the true fun begins! For those sitting here wondering when Cuphead and co are gonna make an appearance, good news, they're a hop skip away! For those who never read Bendipe. Welcome one and all to the land of 'i don't care, anything but toneless, uninterested Henry plodding along poorly constructed levels on fetch quests that don't quit reacting so little to the various things going to hell around him it actually sucks the entertainment from the surrounding area'. 
> 
> Enjoy it.


	5. Is it just me or is it Quindy out here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brb writing down a new name for Henry to use to call the fake Bendy.

Henry stood quietly while the two new ink beings argued as if he—and the others—weren’t there. Ordinarily, he’d take offense to such a rude gesture, but frankly, he was too amused…and confused. Beside him stood Norman, who looked his usual non-emotive projector self. Then Sammy on his other side, who was the second most angry and offended of the group. The most offended was Alice. Her face, the half that wasn’t malformed, was flushed a dark grey, her eyes could have flooded entire continents with how stormy they were. He _really_ wasn’t sure how to take the not so subtle longing glances she gave to a nearby pipe. Though, if she really wanted to brain either of the two leading the group, he wouldn’t exactly stop her. He was old after all, and _sometimes_ , when he was blinking, it just _happened_ to last longer than usual.

“Tom, I just…he’s not like us.”

“Exactly Tom, Norman may not have obvious facial features, but he’s just as capable of showing how he feels, right Norman?” Henry spoke up, Bendipe, tucked under his arm, stared across the small hallway, smile wide. Norman’s light flickered, his speaker gave off an ungodly screech that reverberated around them in the metallic space. “Aw, you too buddy.” Henry replied fondly.

Allison winced, Tom snarled, Sammy idly kicked a puddle of ink towards the hound, Alice bit back a smile.

“Please, we’re not trying to offend anyone—”

“Oh? You aren’t? Well then, allow me be the first to congratulate you on your talent for effortlessly inciting thoughts of violence in those around you!” Alice’s saccharine smile was topped by a peppy bat of her lashes.

“Before anyone throws a wrench or punch, just as a reminder, any harm comes to Bendipe and I’m ending whatever starts.” Henry pat his dear little creation on his cardboard head. Allison and Tom paled at the sight of two pie-cut eyes staring right at them despite the angle being wrong. To clear the air, Allison cleared her throat first, and decided to start on a different topic.

“Henry? Why are you here?” She asked. Henry scratched at his chin.

“Joey wanted me to see something, apparently that was him breaking the second rule I gave him before I left. Now I’m here until I can shove my fist so far into Joey’s gut, he’s tasting what he ate at the studio’s grand opening.”

“I thought that was what we did earlier.” Sammy brought up. Henry, reminded of the relaxing little scuffle they’d had with Burndy, smiled.

To those that didn’t know him, it wasn’t a nice one.

Luckily for the newcomers, they’d arrived at their safe house, and ushered everyone in quickly. Tom growled at each person as Allison pointed out a few of the ‘features’. Alice rolled her eyes, but, the others noted how she didn’t stray far from Henry.

“Henry? You can have the bed in there if you’d like.” Allison raised her voice as she pointed to a part of the room that looked badly sectioned off. Henry, seeing an ulterior motive, gave her a nod, and did as she asked. “We can’t leave this place too often or the Ink Demon will find us. He…” Allison paused, sure the group would understand. Every single one of them nodded sagely, including Bendipe, much to her and Tom’s renewed horror. She hoped the paranoia of the other Alice would keep them from doing anything too crazy.

She would come to regret thinking that.

====-====-====-====

Henry woke to the sound of Sammy vowing to wear someone’s pelvis as a decorative hat. This was followed by Allison’s cries for “everyone to calm down”, which was met by Norman screeching. Sitting up, he found just how off-kilter everything had gone during his power nap. Alice stood in the corner, keeping herself between Tom and Bendipe. Sammy was keeping Allison from helping Tom who was grappling with Norman. There were boards put up in the doorway, keeping him trapped from the rest of them. He wondered if it was because he was human, or if they actually thought he was the biggest threat.

“That thing will tell him where we are! It has to be taken out and destroyed!” Allison explained, voice high-pitched with desperation.

Henry stood up.

“Allison.” His voice was plain, light, and entirely too unnerving. All movement ceased. The ink being in question held her hands palm up to Henry.

“Henry, we can’t keep that thing here, it’s how he—”

“He already knows it’s how that demon sees things, or did you forget there are others in this hell hole with a brain.” Alice interrupted, snarling. Henry noticed how one of her arms was mangled by what had to have been a blow from a weapon. He guessed it was the metal arm currently stuck to the Boris look-a-like’s upper arm. He held up a hand to Alice, silently asking her to let him have the conversation. She responded by pursing her lips, but ultimately went quiet.

“That right there,” he gestured to Bendipe, “is Bendipe. He is the closest thing to my true little devil darling this place seems to have beyond the old cartoon reels. He’s also under my protection. Now, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. You weren’t there to see me rearrange Sammy’s nipples, or use Boonsty’s head as a football. So, you don’t know the things I do to people who irk me.” He paused a moment, letting his words sink in. Allison looked more horrified than anything, Tom just bared more of his teeth. Henry decided Tom would be the first to get brained once he got out of the hastily made prison.

“What I’m trying to say is, and I’m sure my good friends told you, is if I had woken up and found my sweet little Bendipe broken to pieces, there’d be no need to fear Boonsty. He’d be the least of your worries.” The threat clear, he followed it up by delivering a swift kick to the lowest boards, snapping them like twigs.

In the ensuing silence, Alice put one hand on a popped-out hip, fixed her hair a bit, and snarked, “I _told_ you so.”

====-=====-====-====

For some reason, Allison kept begging them to stay in the safe room. Sammy bet it was because she was too cowardly despite her displays of bravado. Norman agreed, Alice snorted, Bendipe stared at a wall. Tom continued trying to threaten them, but Henry simply couldn’t find it intimidating. He’d see Tom, then he’d see Boris, and he’d remember the utter beat down his two dear pals delivered to the other, even more metallic, Boris.

He didn’t know how long they stayed in that place, but it was enough for him to fill his little room with comics.

====-====-====-====

“But what confuses me the most, is that you were about to stab Alice over there, but then not even two hallways later, you were talking about how untrustworthy Henry is. Did you _forget_ you were about to stab someone for the untrustworthy fleshy human?” Sammy, leaning against a wall, didn’t quite face Allison, but it was clear his question was aimed at her. She simply grimaced in reply.

====-====-====-====

“If I didn’t know how pathetic you were, I’d start a bet that you’re trying to poison Henry. But I _do_ know. Unfortunately.”

“If I didn’t know _you_ any better, I’d say you suddenly found a heart in that ink of yours.”

“We gave her _at least_ five! She better have a damn heart!”

Bendipe audibly snickered.

The safe house was silent for the rest of the day.

====-====-====-====

“I found this mirror, and found messages hidden!”

“Why is the wall calling you a liar?”

“You ever be so horrible even inanimate objects know it?”

“Alice!”

“Allison.”

“Big talk for tainted ink!”

“Are any of us _not_ made of the stuff?”

“I’m ninety percent sure Norman is made out of spiteful ink.”

Henry didn’t bother to hide his laughter.

====-====-====-====

“Tom! What were you thinking!” The blind fear in Allison’s frantic voice caught the attention of the others currently offering up ideas for comics Henry could draw. The group glanced up, except Bendipe. Allison paced in front of a wounded Tom. Had Henry not known Tom had tried destroying Bendipe, he’d be inclined to help Allison fix Tom’s arm. But Henry _did_ know, and it looked like Allison, through her rambling, knew what she was doing anyway.

“Oh! Bendy in Go Fish, with piranhas and a gag about whose teeth are sharper!” Sammy shouted, slapping his hand to the floor with pride. Allison stared at nothing, wondering if she’d made the right choice. Tom huffed.

====-====-====-====

“Holy mercy I was joking about the fish!” Sammy pressed one hand to the side of his face not covered by the Bendy mask, form drooping with disbelief.

“What?” There was a pause in Alice’s step.

“How in the world did you two scrape enough brains together to get an aquarium down here?!”

_“Why the hell wasn’t this one of the features?!”_

====-====-=====-====

Inky swirls curling towards the lights, marring the floors and walls, and crawling across the floor towards the most recent additions to the group, were first noticed by Alice. She shrieked, leaping onto Norman’s back, scrambling to stay away from the threat. Henry, more rested than he’d ever been in his life, bored to tears, cheered.

“Round two!” He cried out joyfully, even as Allison and Tom broke into a not so quiet argument.

“There’s safety in numbers Tom! He’s different! What if he’s the key to our freedom!?” Though Henry couldn’t understand Tom’s reply, he knew for a fact he wouldn’t have cared much for it anyway.

“Are you kidding? You’d be dead weight!” Alice snapped from her perch on Norman’s shoulders. No one bothered to tell her just how useful _she’d_ been to the group thus far.

“Is this because we tore that other Boris’ spleen out? Is that why you’re so sour to us?” Sammy, who, unlike Norman, hadn’t taken a sudden vow of silence, griped. Henry would bet money that the ink creatures knew exactly what Tom had said. “And for that matter, what is your issue with Henry? You were apparently all for helping us earlier! Are either of you remotely okay in the head?”

Norman gave off a spine chilling, crackling hiss. Henry snapped the top most board of his former ‘prison’, pondering how many hits it would last. Tom reacted by grabbing Allison and pulling her to the door, apparently deciding to abandon the rest. Instead of fighting him, she gave Henry one last pleading look, though Henry didn’t know why, and they were gone.

“Okay group vote, either we leave, or we wait for round two to present itself.” The group, suddenly serious, went quiet as the bangs and clangs of an awakened studio filled the silence. They sat in a circle, Bendipe propped up beside Henry. For a few minutes, no one said a thing. It was Norman that broke the silence first.

“I say we get out, there are things to explore down here, and Joey’s office is just a few floors down if memory serves me right.” Sammy nodded, and then paused.

“But hold on, I thought that thing we took down, the demon, _is Joey._ Isn’t it?” For reasons Henry couldn’t figure out, they turned to him for an answer. He looked back at them with confusion, then figured it couldn’t hurt to take a minute to _really_ look at the actions of the thing apparently tripping over every pan in existence outside the room.

“I think… I think it has Joey in it. He’s there, but… Fella’s it’s been thirty years since I saw that man. The way it walks, the way it holds itself, the poor sense of humor… it points to Joey. But I don’t recall Joey ever being this aggressive. Most he did was tackle another student in the fifth grade while screaming about justice... Fairly certain that was the kid that ate his sugar cube castle during lunch break. At the very least he’s here in this studio. And I’d also bet money on him being part of either the studio itself or round two.” Henry grew more certain as he reached the end of his short speech. The group grew less certain in turn.

“But…” Alice spoke weakly, the thought of not getting revenge settling heavily in her stomach. “How can you tell? No one has seen him, we’d all just been going on the hope that he was still pulling the strings.” Henry reached out and pat her shoulder, he gave her a reassuring smile.

“I know, Alice…” His reassuring smile dropped into a dead pan stare, “because if he wasn’t, my ‘Joey is being a jackass’ sense would have stopped after starting that piece of scrap metal upstairs.” The rest relaxed, taking comfort in Henry’s ever reliable antics.

“Then, I agree with Norman, we should get out of here, and continue ahead. I don’t think I like the idea of that cowardly mistake getting revenge before I do.” She stood, prompting the others to do the same. Henry picked up the mirror, debating keeping it, then gave it to Alice. He figured she’d want to observe things rather than risk tainted ink ruining her. She seemed to understand, if the barely-there grateful tilt to her lips was anything to go by.

Norman led the way, his light illuminating the darker halls and his presence alone scaring away the few searchers that sprang up. At one point, a searcher popped up close enough to leave a mark on Bendipe’s cheek.

The garbled wails for mercy ensured no other creatures bothered them for the rest of their journey down the halls.

When they reached places that were swamped with ink, Sammy was the one to carry Alice across. She sometimes broke into short little humming tunes that he’d compliment with his own tenor voice, giving the group a spot of pep the radio in Norman’s chest couldn’t quite match. At least until the two singers began to sass each other about carrying tunes.

Henry glanced at Bendipe, sharing a bright, big smile with his creation. Sure, he was still going to beat entire new fears into Joey once he found the other elder, but, he _might_ ease up _a tad_ , for giving him a chance at experiencing such an adventure.

Bendipe’s returned smile was warm.

====-====-====-====

“So…”

“A river of ink.”

“You think this is where they got the fish?”

“We’re supposed to take that piece of—” A massive hand burst from the ink, interrupting Henry’s budding rant about the barge creaking weakly in front of them. The group stared as it dragged a decrepit barge into the sludgy depths. Then looked back at the equally weak barge before them. Immediately, the group started looking around for other options. A generator behind them kicked on, and Henry got an idea.

====-====-=====-====

“I’m scared.”

“He said he’s a mechanic and an engineer, he fixed up Norman. Whatever he’s doing can’t be all—”

A burst of smoke sent Henry coughing, stumbling backwards towards the edge of the dock. Norman caught him wordlessly.

“Alice. I want you, and whoever made you to know… your song was the most annoying to make.”

“Go choke on a banjo.”

====-====-====-====

The group was on the barge.

The group was not _keen_ about being on the barge.

The best way to describe them was suspicious of the barge.

All but Henry and Bendipe. Though, quite tellingly, Henry put Bendipe safely in the middle where no harm could possibly befall him. This did not make the rest any less suspicious. Somewhere above, the big bad ink demon finally got an idea as to where the strays were, and, forgetting common sense, hurried to the river of ink to watch them get crushed by the beast in the ink.

None of them felt any more terror in their lives, than the moment Henry asked if Norman could play Ave Maria, told the rest to grab onto something tight, idly remarked about rocket propulsion, and flipped a switch.

====-====-====-====

The barge didn’t float merrily, merrily, merrily down the river, despite Henry’s horribly off-key humming saying so. It roared down the river in a blaze of ingenuity and creativity…and fire.

The only reason the barge even made the corners as it skimmed the surface was because the group collectively got _really_ good at leaning hard in whatever direction was needed.

If Bendy was being honest, and if he had the ability to speak, he’d have told whoever asked that he really didn’t know what to expect. But whatever he would have tossed out as a potential Henry way of getting through the river, it wouldn’t have been _rigging a new engine for the thing._

By the time the sweet singing of Ave Maria, and the sound of screams and curses, and the all too familiar voice singing the row the boat song registered, the group was already frantically throwing themselves to one side, narrowly avoiding the wall as they turned. Bendy got a flash of Sammy at the front, clinging to the bow with one hand, and his mask with the other. A dash of Norman blaring Ave Maria, light barely catching on Bendy’s thin form. Alice with gouges of wood showing how far she’d slid back before her nails got a proper dig into the boat’s side. In the center, the cutout; giving him the biggest shit eating grin, he’d seen in his life.

And in the back stood Henry, mouth open in the exact same grin as his creation.

Bendy took a few moments to collect his thoughts, then tossed all that to the wind, and screamed into the inky wall. The beast below awkwardly pat him on the back.

====-====-====-====

“We made it!” Alice ripped her fingers from the wood, turned shakily to Henry upon hearing his cheerful observation, and let out the sound a dying animal makes when it has no strength to really scream. Norman cut the radio, wobbly legs carrying him out of the barge faster than they looked to have the strength to. Sammy burst into bright cheers, kissing a pillar with the same worship filled enthusiasm he gave the demon back in the tunnel before the nipple incident. Henry, after checking Bendipe for any stray splotches of ink, joined the rest on the pier with a bounce in his step.

The odd sight of a tiny town by the dock had the group pausing, but not due to how weird it was, more to see what would be popping out to kill them.

It would be one of the few times the studio pulled a fast one on them.

As Henry approached the boarded up door, remarking about how annoying the weak attempt to barricade things in a studio full of the cheapest materials ever made, a scream in a familiar voice cut him off.

“Betrayed! Abandoned!” Another Sammy bit out in a garbled, twisted scream. Wild swings of an axe tore through the boards, and one stray swing caught Bendipe’s right horn, snapping it clean off.

Sammy, having been examining a bottle, didn’t hesitate to wing it to the ground, shout ‘Bail!’ to the rest of them, and immediately scale the nearest wall. Alice, who was closest, yanked Bendipe from Henry’s absent hold, well aware he let her do so, and carted the cutout to safety on the dock. Norman, a far too eager note in his speaker, hummed “Round two~.” Before dropping a board ripped from the door next to Henry.

====-====-====-====

Bendy, hearing screams that were familiar but not, trekked through the sludge, warping through the last half so he didn’t miss any carnage.

He wished he hadn’t.

He didn’t need to know what a broken board could do to an ink creature with enough force applied. He was also quite certain that where the pants were on the false Sammy, was not wher pants were ever made to go.

The screams though… They would haunt him more than any of the images would.

Bendipe stared at him from Alice’s tight grip, fully repaired, mustache topped smile on full display, malice bright in pie-cut eyes.

He just sank into the wall, deciding he’d had enough for one day.

====-====-====-====

Norman, leaning against a wall, staring in abject horror mixed with vindictive glee, was the first to spot Tom and Allison. He greet them how he normally greeted things he wasn’t entirely fond of. Namely, he screeched his infamous screech. He saw Alice flinch so hard she almost brained herself on the low roof above her; he counted it as an added bonus.

Henry turned at the sound, splattered with ink and bits of wood, glass, and whatever else he’d picked up in his war path. He waved at them cheerfully, ignoring the bubbling, sobbing pile of goo at his feet. Allison dry heaved. Tom very clearly examined the distance between them, even more clearly wondering if the distance was enough. Norman shook his head once in reply.

“We,” Allison paused, choking back down whatever came back up. “We wound up coming this way too.” She had a distinct greyish-green hue flushing her cheeks. Henry found it mildly interesting. But what he cared more for was his Bendipe being carried to him by Alice. He jogged to cut the distance away, scooping Bendipe from her arms and giving her the most heartfelt thanks he could. Sure, he could have just put Bendipe off to the side as he’d done before the first time he’d _dealt with_ Sammy, but the ink splatter was greater with this one. Thus, he decided it was a good thing she’d taken Bendipe away.

“I detect a lie in that statement, but I don’t care.” Sammy, halfway down the wall he’d scuttled up, sassed. Tom looked between him and the puddle of shivering ink, Sammy beamed, though no one could really tell.

“I’ve accepted that I’ll be needing therapy after this, that’s just another session to add to the pile!”

Tom would have responded, except a metric ton of searchers rose from the ground, surging up at the group.

Alice buried her heel in the face of one that decided she’d make an easy target, then did as Sammy previously had, and scaled a wall, fear of losing herself to the ink greater than her indignation. Sammy had no problems tearing the head off of one and using it to brain another. Norman let out another, far more powerful screech, belted Tiny Tim’s ‘Living In the Sunlight’ out of his speaker, and leapt at the nearby pack of searchers with ferocity unmatched. Henry started to back up, trying to figure out how to get to Alice to get Bendipe to safety.

Focused on that task as he was, he failed to notice how the face on Bendipe shifted to one beyond off model. With ink dripping from wide, demented eyes, sneering grin, and an obvious vow of agony, no searcher even thought to come close. Allison and Tom, busy hacking and slashing, still managed to catch a glimpse of the new look, and despaired. They’d hoped the studio couldn’t get worse. Alice tearing pieces of roof off to fling at enemies; Sammy humming a wrathful tune as he buried his fist in a searchers face; Norman playing a cheery song that didn’t match, and yet entirely fit the actions of him and those around him; Henry, not even looking as he curb stomped a searcher into paste; crushed their hopes further still.

====-====-====-====

“See, I’d say we should stick together, but I’m not feeling the whole ‘over-protective brother’ thing Tom has going on. Never liked Boris much either.” Henry, covered from the knee down in fresh ink, picked at a bit of dry ink that had splattered onto his face. Allison, not taking her eyes from Bendipe, let out a weak noise of protest. Tom growled at Bendipe, but it was more for show than anything.

“We—”

“Oh, dear Allison, we’d _never_ _just abandon poor souls in need of help._ Noooo! _We_ have more decency than that.” Alice had a smile on her face, mockery in her tone, and the mirror in her tight grip, though, at the end, her smile fell into an unimpressed snarl. Allison winced, scratching at a scrape on her arm.

“It’s just…”

“Say no more, _Alice Angel._ When given a potential savior, I too would have just abandoned him, allowing some pathetic _mutt_ to manhandle me. As we both know, Alice Angel is just a pretty damsel, so that course of action is the only one that makes sense! I’d _never_ match up to your _untainted_ self. I know I would have stood my ground and done what I wanted, regardless of the whims of some heavy-handed brute.” Her tone was cutting, her words even more so. Allison glared at her weakly through her bangs. Henry stepped between them, heading for the side exit he saw to the left of the room.

Though he didn’t say anything, the fact that Norman and Sammy followed readily said enough. Frankly, Henry didn’t care if they argued while walking, but he wasn’t staying in this location any longer than needed.

====-====-====-====

The group stared at the shoddy plank bridge across the black chasm.

“Oh _hell no._ Someone help me drag that barge over here, we’re testing its flight abilities.”

“Henry…no.”

There was much arguing.

====-====-====-====

“Riddle me this Bendipe, send the old man across the boards made of unicorn spit and sawdust, because who _else_ might we send over!”

No one would ever know if it was sheer coincidence that the board under Henry’s feet gave out at that exact second. What they did know, was the timing was too funny, and later on, when sure of Henry’s safety, they’d laugh heartily. Now though, Norman threw himself onto the first board, tall frame crashing onto the wood, hands outstretched for any part of Henry he could grab. His fingers brushed the stained shirt, and closed on Bendipe’s frame despite not having been near the cutout. The two Angel’s screamed Henry’s name, Alice immediately bolting back out of the hallway to find a new route to get down where Henry fell.

Allison followed, Tom at her heels. Sammy hauled Norman back up, pulling him and Bendipe away from the pit.

Bendipe wasn’t smiling anymore.

====-====-====-====

“Called it.” Henry griped, wringing out his pants, bones aching with every sharp movement. He was glad he’d managed to hand over Bendipe, considering the pool of ink he’d landed in. He didn’t think the devil darling would have taken well to an ink bath. Rising to his feet, resigning himself to wet pants for the rest of his time in the studio, he started off into the better lit room. Offices, cutouts, all leading him eventually to the door to the Film Vault.

He got the distinct feeling Joey was laughing at him.

Not willing to let a lack of Bendipe and dry clothing ruin his drive, he began listing the various things he was going to do to Joey, depending on items at hand at the time. He also broke down the doors to a few of the offices and moved the furniture in them five inches to the left. Rather, he moved everything not bolted down five inches to the left. Then he continued on to discover the vault itself was blocked by a flood. Let whoever came through next run into every piece of furniture, he thought, glaring at a chair.

“Do you…is this the one thing you know how to do?” Henry asked the studio. The studio remained silent. “Is this really it? Just…you block a path because that union worker wet dream was built by a team of drunk toddlers using instructions written in Swahili can’t figure out how to _not_ break? I drew grand things here… I expected better, I expected great creativity. Maybe pathways that rely on my memory of the old cartoons to properly navigate. Perhaps puzzles with references to the great animations that led us to have the funds to buy you, you termite infested trash heap. But no! the bare minimum of creativity, the bare minimum effort. I..” Henry took a chair from one of the rooms, and bust the window.

As a wave of ink poured from the hole, he realized the chair wouldn’t be enough to open the door, and, in fact, opening the door in its state would be a bad move. That, and he heard the sound of a shutter being lifted. He didn’t hold much hope that his words had talked the studio into not repeating the same tasks over and over. He squinted at the wall with missing pipes, deep frown lacking in everything but annoyance. He acquiesced though, and left to see what the newly opened area offered.

====-====-====-====

The sight of the butcher gang had him going from annoyed, to vindictive. He cleared his throat loudly, the lanky one turned to see him, and made its first mistake.

It tried to run.

The second mistake it made, was taking a swing at Henry.

The others lurking in the area cleared out the exact second the screeching started.

====-====-====-====

“Okay, now I think we put the ink into this weird opening here… yeah this one.” Henry muttered, watching the shivering ink creature drop the glob of ink into the strange machine with pipe symbols on one side. He gave the thing a polite thanks, apologized for rearranging a few of the ink creatures’ limbs, and then remembered he needed two more pieces of pipe, and gave the little fella a bashful smile.

The weapon formerly belonging to the ink being still in Henry’s grip marred the image.

====-====-====-====

Henry stared up at the sign denoting the office before him as Joey Drews. He wordlessly waved the butcher gang member away, keeping his eyes on the sign. Thoughts raced through his brain too fast for his mind to keep up with. Questions rang louder, and far more clearly.

He wanted to know why Joey broke cardinal rules given to him. He wanted to know why Joey thought to shove an amusement park in the ass crack of Earth. He _really_ wanted to know how Joey talked construction workers into building so much stupidity. Frankly he wouldn’t have been surprised if Joey had gotten them all shit faced, had them all play darts, then build whichever asinine thing got the most hits.

He’d get his answers one way or another, even if it meant punting Saint Peter off his holy cloud and mooning the big guy behind the pearly gates. With that, he stepped into the office, and let everything truly sink in. It was silent for an unknown amount of time as Henry soaked up the message left by the owner of the studio. Then.

“Did that ostentatious ham-guzzling bitch of life move the main sign from outside into his fucking office?!”

====-====-====-====

The Film Vault sat wrecked, torn open, and it didn’t surprise Henry one bit. He dug through a couple boxes, wondering what he could possibly need, or what had prompted someone to rip the tin door off its frame.

“Henry!” Came various voices. Henry responded by turning and throwing the thing in his hands as hard as he could. The film reel breezed past Tom’s face, shattering against the back wall. The group paused, taking in the sheepish blush growing on Henry’s face, and the ruined reel.

“Well, that’s the end of _that_ cartoon.” Norman joked. Henry, in the middle of retrieving his dear devil darling, let out a string of curses, followed by a string of excited cheers. He pulled Norman into a bear hug, thanked the man profusely, took Bendipe into his hands, and started for the path leading further still into the vault. Only to pause again.

“Wait up… how did you all get down here?” At the question, Allison held up a rope.

“It pays to carry a rope around it seems. You should it some time.” She teased. He opened his mouth to respond, closed it, opened it again, decided it wasn’t worth it, nodded instead, and started walking.

“Hold on Henry, that’s the way to the Ink Demon’s lair!”

“He has a lair?”

“Yes! It’s suicide to go there!” Henry ignored her, and the rest followed. They recognized an animator on a mission, and weren’t willing to miss the action. “Besides, you’ll have to get through _that_ door.” She gestured to the heavy door standing between them and the lair.

Henry stared at it for a moment, then he eyed Norman and Tom.

The door lasted all of four seconds.

If there was any surprise at Tom’s sudden eagerness to help, they didn’t bother to try and figure it out.

====-====-====-====

“Was there a sale on projectors? How many of these damn things did he buy?!” Henry tried to figure out what was on the reels, trying to figure out if the thing had been in use when everything went to hell or if it was just running because Joey loved wracking up electricity bills. Norman gave off a burst of static that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

====-=====-=====-====

“Quiet! Don’t let him hear us!” Allison hissed as the walls twisted under inky shadows. Alice, feeling bold for reasons she couldn’t quite tell, sent a glance at Henry, ducked down, and started carefully inching her way to the glass. Hidden in the shadows, her hair falling across her face to hide her skin, she waited as the ink demon limped his way. The rest joined her, despite it being obvious that Allison and Tom had no idea what they were doing.

Then Alice flew up, banging her hands on the glass exactly as she’d done to Henry earlier.

No one could recall how the demon went from limping across the floor to pinned to the wall, bow fluffed out, inky shadows writhing, but he managed it. Henry popped up next, pressing his face to the other glass panel, breathing heavily on it. Then came Bendipe, though, it was a tad hard to get him to peek due to the bottom panel on the window protruding. Norman’s projector light clanked against the glass beside him. He must have swiped a reel from the Film Vault, because displayed on the wall was a short skit of Bendy running from skeletons. Sammy was next, but all he did was smack his mask against the glass and make obnoxious noises.

Allison and Tom stared at them like they were all drunkards wearing traffic cones, carrying a stop light, and wandering down a street, miles from any location the stop light could have come from. Deep in their minds, they wondered what the Ink Demon was thinking.

====-====-====-====

Bendy, desperate to avoid another confrontation so soon after seeing what he had, staunchly limped forward as quickly as he could, smile pulled tight over his face. He was never more glad to know the ink running down his face hid the cartoon sweat beading on his brow when the cutout winked at him.

‘ _I miss the random hobos that used to wander in.’_ He thought, despairing as Henry’s forehead started making squeaking noises against the glass.

====-====-====-====

The moment they stepped into the massive room, the lights kicked on, and Henry’s face contorted so impressively into a multitude of expressions that those made of ink winced.

“Oh sweet _shit it multiplied!”_ Henry waved his free arm wildly at the hulking machine hovering above the lake of ink. “And, _and_ it’s _just as much a piece of shit!_ ” He pointedly stared at the lake under the dripping nozzle. “ _Joey you mother—”_ He sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and went silent for a full minute.

For the briefest of seconds, everyone else thought he was calming himself down.

Then he broke off into the most vile rant about the machine, Joey, the workers who let the machine come into existence, the workers that then crafted the smaller one on the upper floors, Joey again, the engineers that supplied the instructions for the construction workers, the people who delivered the parts, the people that delivered the people to the job site, and finally, Joey.

By the end of it, everyone with a mouth was staring slack-jawed at the man. Norman just sniffled, one hand over his heart, nodding, sheer appreciation for the beauty bestowed upon whatever made for his ears pouring from his lanky frame.

Bendipe stared at a wall.

====-====-====-====

“There’s no way across, and I don’t see any materials to build a raft. We can’t just wade across either…”

“Are you actually serious?”

“Excuse me?”

“No, you aren’t excused. What? I thought you were more perfected than I am! Are you telling me these two blob monsters can do what prim and perfect can’t?”

“Alice! Be nice! It’s not her fault there’s nothing to tie the rope to!”

“Oh of _course_ , the ever-useful rope finally meets its’ match. Hell forbid you just go one room back and build a damn boat.” Alice spoke while climbing up onto Sammy’s shoulders. He didn’t even slouch under the added, awkward weight, just stared at them. In the lighting, it almost looked like the mask on his head was laughing at them judgmentally.

Norman hadn’t even bothered to wait, just plowed on into the ink.

“There goes Norman…” Henry remarked as he shifted his hold on Bendipe, “Taking the _plunge_.”

The burst of snorting laughter the Projectionist let out was worth the pure confusion on those who didn’t know why it was so funny. Henry, spirits—and Bendipe—high, was next, carefully making his way through, listening as Sammy joined them in their journey across.

Allison and Tom watched them leave, Allison’s lips pursed so tightly that her lipstick couldn’t hide the white skin around the edges. Tom glared at Alice, who sent back a coy grin.

“Just remember guys, whatever happens, find a rope, ropes are the most powerful item in this place.”

“She only remembered she had it after we ran around like morons for five minutes.”

“But can the rope disappoint you by breaking after hitting something only once?”

“It held Sammy up, didn’t it?”

“Is that a sneeze I feel coming on? I hope I don’t suddenly drop you.”

“ _Don’t you dare you noseless heretic.”_

“Henry!” Allison called out, making the group pause and turn to face her. “Remember, you’re here for a reason. You survived longer than any others.”

“Allison… I know. I got a letter from the ass clown what did all of this. He literally asked me to come here. Did you want to see it? I think I— wait a second. You asked why I was here a few days ago! Wh—”

“Oh please just set everyone here free!” She snapped, interrupting him. He arched a brow, nodded, and followed Norman up the stairs. Alice shot the two across the way one last filthy glare, and was the last to vanish into the shadows. Faintly, just barely heard over the drips and creaks, they heard Henry speak again.

“Hey, did you all notice they didn’t give us a single weapon?”

“Did _you_ notice how none of us are surprised about that?”

“Oh! So you aren’t! Norman, tear a pipe off…yeah that one, thanks!”

Allison quietly grabbed Tom’s hand, and questioned her life choices.

====-====-====-====

“Oh wow, it’s a bunch of ink creatures!”

“It’s Boris!”

“Not a single other Alice, good to know Joey didn’t bother trying after the second attempt.”

“No Bendy either. Or Projectionist. Sorry Sammy.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get back at them for trying to mimic me later.”

====-====-====-====

Henry knelt on the floor, knees pressing into his chest, forehead pressed into the ground, chest heaving with hysterical laughter. Bendipe stood beside him, staring at the throne revealed after Alice pulled the lever to open the door. Henry had been down for four minutes and counting. Norman wasn’t any better, staticky laughter crackling through his abused speaker. Sammy leaned against the wall at least, adding fuel to their laughter.

“I _knew_ there was a reason he wanted me to call him lord! I knew it! I fueled his fantasies!”

“He’s got so many shorts, so many skits playing, and yet not once did he get the single Bendy he tried to imiate right.” Alice bemoaned, grandly gesturing at all the screens. Henry wheezed. She spotted the tape player first, and pressed play, interested in just what it had to say. Her lips curled in disgust the second Joey’s voice came out of it, but as he spoke, she took note of something else. She wasn’t the only one though.

“Wait… The… He put…the way to defeat the ink demon, on the ink demon’s throne, and the ink demon, presumably, played it…and then just…left it for any random intruder to find.” Sammy sounded four seconds from falling into another fit of laughter, even more mocking than the last fit. Alice _did_ fall into gut wrenching laughter, nearly toppling over from how hard her chest heaved.  

“He…” Henry choked on his spit, coughing a couple times, “Almost every one of those shorts has a ‘the end’ frame!” Then he fell back into laughter so intense tears dripped down his bright red face. Norman broke from laughter into unholy cackles, made all the more intimidating by the way it was distorted.

Bendy tapped the throne with his fingers, resting his head on his other hand as the group ignored him entirely. Bendipe stared at him, grin stretched wide across his cardboard face.

====-====-====-====

It took another five minutes for the group to settle down enough to see the ink demon watching them from behind the throne. Bendy, or rather, from the cry Henry let out, Bumdy, wasted no time in growing into a hulking beast.

As he towered over them, heavy claws scratching the floor, legs dangling uselessly in the air, the group stared silently at him. Alice looked like she was trying for ‘brave and ready to throw down’ but only reaching ‘terrified, but not bailing’. Norman looked to be looking for the first place he was going to drive his fist into. Sammy’s eyes glowed behind the mask, cardboard grinning where no mouth could.

Henry just threw the pipe in his hands at Bumdy, watching it bonk off his head rather uselessly.

“Fella’s, I dare say we’ll have to get creative here.” He spoke, voice light.

Bumdy felt the studio shudder, and knew whatever battle was about to take place, he wasn’t going to come out on top.

As if reading his thoughts, the cutout beside Henry nodded, shit eating grin on full display.

====-====-====-====

To an outsider, it would look like Bumdy was charging around randomly, and they’d be seeing things correctly.

Then again, anyone would run from a group of lunatics led by a person with imagination, the know how to bring his imagination to life, and a wrench found on the floor. How Henry cobbled together a rifle, he’d never know. Really, it was Alice who gave the weapon to him. The boys weren’t the only ones capable of manipulating ink after all. Though, as she watched him lay another magazine into Bumdy’s ass, she wondered if she’d given him the right weapon.

“You found those levers yet?” Henry called out, lighting up the bastardization of his creation as the thing skid by. Alice responded by hauling down the last switch, giving him a proud, if frazzled smile. She wasn’t used to running around so much. Upon spotting a sealed off hall, the others not antagonizing the demon went about finding the switches to unlock the path ahead. Norman was using his light to blind Bumdy any chance he got, playing far too chipper tunes for the current situation. Sammy was helping Alice, and attempting to mess with where the portals Bumdy opened up. He didn’t know how successful he was, but he couldn’t bring himself to be too disappointed. Not when he realized Henry was specifically targeting Bumdy’s lower half to make the demon run faster.

“Shouldn’t have forgotten the legs, buddy!” Henry called out as the group started for the newly opened hallway. Bendipe was tucked under Alice’s arm, and if she was unnerved by the far too amused gleam in the eyes of the cutout, she didn’t show it.

The next room featured giant pipes, a heavy door slamming down to lock him and the rest in the room, and Bumdy, who seemed to realize that it wasn’t exactly _them_ trapped with _him._

Especially not when Henry spotted the words on the wall.

“Well Burmby, who’s laughing now indeed?” He said, finger tapping the trigger.

Burmby tried to flee through a portal, Sammy kicked up the ink flow in the room, Bendipe’s eyes glowed, the portal spat Burmdy out into the room once more. Through the minds of the ink creatures, a voice long silent spoke up.

‘ _I am.’_

====-====-====-====

It was Burmby that played the reel. And it was by sheer luck that he managed to haul ass fast enough, escape the room of hell, and get back to his throne. Norman tackled him to the floor with Sammy’s help a moment later, but it was too late.

The world around Henry grew white.

The last thing he heard before everything fell into a white void was Alice cheering about finding a kidney. He felt a tear of pride slide down his cheek.

====-====-====-====

For a moment, Henry feared he’d found his way into a stranger’s home again. He wasn’t up to playing the dementia-ridden old geezer routine after what he’d just gone through. There was chipper whistling, but it wasn’t what caught his attention, or held it. It was the posters, and the desk. He stared at the sketches, took in the old posters, decrepit versions of the ones in the studio. His heart began to pick up speed as he realized exactly where he was.

His feet carried his numb body to the kitchen where he found the person he’d been looking for since stepping into the studio. Several things buzzed in his brain, but the most important had him reaching into his pocket, tearing out the ink stained letter, and quietly placing it on the counter, sugar sweet smile on his face.

Joey turned, mouth open to continue his greeting, then he spotted the letter, read murder in Henry’s eyes, and debated how fast he could reach the phone. When the chair Henry had grabbed creaked, and then cracked under the pressure of Henry’s hold, he knew he’d never make it.

“O-okay Henry, you have questions, right? You always do!” The ‘friendly, nostalgic’ laugh was strained and weak. Henry’s smile grew in strength. The chair broke. “The most important question is,” Joey stuttered, clutching the plate to his chest tightly. “Is who are we?”

“Pissed off war veteran,” Henry gestured to himself, “dead motherfucker.” He waved to Joey with his other hand, the one holding the back of the chair.

“Henry, please let me explain.” Joey held his hands out palms up as a gesture for peace. Henry, _still_ smiling, nodded.

“I always thought I knew who I was, but…the success starved me. Nothing left but lines on a page.” Joey paused to lick his dry lips, Henry didn’t move. “In the end, we followed two different paths of our own making. You, a lovely family, me… a crooked empire.”

“Joey, the crooked man on a crooked hill, has a crooked empire. You have a bunch of corpses and a utility bill so massive it has it’s own area code. You have picked the _exact_ wrong question to try answering—”

“I let our creations become my life!” Joey shouted over Henry’s next words. Henry’s mouth snapped shut, and after a moment of silence, nodded for Joey to continue. Joey almost cried at the way Henry relaxed for the first time since entering the kitchen.

“The truth is, you were always _so_ good at pushing, old friend… Pushing me to do the right thing.” Henry’s lips twitched, fighting back a fond smile. “You should have pushed harder.” Joey knew, right after the last syllable left his mouth, that he’d said the wrong thing. Henry’s eyes flew wide open, his mouth broke into a wide, closed smile, and Joey saw Death rise from the shadow Henry cast.

“Oh I’ll push harder Joey. I’m about to push you so far into the afterlife you’ll be able to smell every fart God Almighty squeaks out.”

It would be a little later when Henry wondered how no neighbors had called the cops, but that question would be answered, when the world again went white right as he was reaching for a spoon.

“Come visit the old workshop.” Henry heard Joey say, which was odd considering Joey was lacking the teeth to enunciate that well. “There’s something I have to show you.” Henry’s eyes widened, he blinked, and suddenly, he was back in the studio.

He looked down, digging his foot into a squeaky floorboard. Silently, he walked down the hall. As the realization that it wasn’t a fever dream brought on by trying to stuff yet another utensil into Joey’s mouth, Henry…smiled.

The studio cried.

“ _Round two.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be real honest with you, i have no clue how to carry the originals over to this thing and I don't want to lose the wonderful comments on them, hence the great migration.   
> For those who've read Bendipe before, y'all know. ohhhh y'all know what this means. The plot is but a breath away.   
> Gear up folks, it's bout to get cross-eyed in here.


	6. The ink thickens.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't see it, but I'm rubbing my hands together like a squirrel contemplating murder.  
> The true start to the crossover, don't bother grabbing the edge of your seat, it won't save you.

Two children, twelve in age, strolled along a path, entirely at ease. Every so often, they’d start a game of tag, made all the more interesting when they began using the shadows. One would easily collapse back into the void, vanishing from sight, then appearing a little further, just out of range. The shadows eagerly played along, snatching them up without a pause, flickering with the boys knew to be laughter. Though they had faster methods of getting where they wanted to go, walking was more entertaining to them.

It had been two years since one brother, red in color, drank a potion that killed him right before his horrified twin. His brother, who travelled to the isle of gods long corrupted by their own faults and sins, trapped by hopeless mortals. It had been grueling, terrifying at points. And though the brother in red still refused to let the Goddess of Death come within ten feet of his brother in blue, they were making leaps and bounds with learning the ins and outs of being deities themselves, and the methods of the other gods.

Never ones to just wallow in the eternity that stretched before them where they never aged beyond twelve, they’d simply taken a few months to learn what their Domains, the things that made them Gods, wanted. Or what the Domains could do, in many cases. They’d taken to the rather creepy fact their shadows no longer resembled them all the time quickly, enjoying the faces of those who either didn’t know or weren’t as prepared to see it. Every so often, on the darker nights, the brother in blue could be seen with a hound and a cat trotting alongside him. The brother in red’s shadow had a habit of laughing audibly, a deep, hissing laugh that made it an interesting event when joking with him.

The siblings were currently enjoying some free time before their adopted goddess returned to them. She’d mentioned having to deal with an issue she didn’t want them dirtying their hands with. Or, more accurately.

“Now children, I’ll be off mauling people who’ve decided we’re easy targets now that we’ve been down and out for a century. Silly bastards are about to learn a thing!” She’d cocked her gun, gave them a peck on the cheek, and vanished in a swirl of fire. It had been three days since then, and the boys were close enough to Cagney’s temple, they figured stopping by wouldn’t hurt.

Their own temple was in the works. It hadn’t taken long for worshippers to descend on a chosen spot that sat close to where they used to live. Even King Dice had been impressed at how fast the world was enchanted by the boys. Cuphead, cherry red eyes gleaming, had given him a cheeky smile.

“It’s cause we got the secret weapon. Cute.” He gestured to Mugman, who’d clasped his hands together, tilted his head, and ramped the cute up to full.

“Years of honed cute.” The blue brother had finished, batting his lashes. King Dice, donning sunglasses now, nodded in understanding.

Their temple, half a months travel behind, was nearly finished, and the boys had been shooed away by the people who wanted to surprise them with a grand reveal. Thus far, it was a sweeping space that took inspiration from the civilizations of old, mostly due to their attire. So they were exploring the world once more. There was so much to see, it wasn’t exactly a chore for them. Cagney had also mentioned something about wanting to show off an oasis he and Djimmi had been working on, something the boys were just about rattling in excitement to see.

The sun was high above, the shadows around them were deep, the fauna was bustling, and a new game was presenting itself. The boys kept a quick pace, chasing one another, falling into shadows to appear a few yards ahead, merrily playing. Golden eyes would look into one another every so often, but they didn’t stop moving. Just an hour away was Cagney, they knew it thanks to their honed senses picking up on another Domain hovering close by. Though it wasn’t theirs, the Domain that cared for Cagney, the Root brothers, and Rumor, seemed amiable enough to them. They’d come around with little scrapes and scuffs that would “mysteriously” vanish by the time they were leaving. Their own Domains, though perfectly capable of handling such tiny injuries, indulged their fellow Domain.

Water was still a bit despondent that Cuphead refused to go anywhere near the sea if he could help it, even choosing to call for Grim Matchstick just to avoid going across a sea.

‘ _Wind is pathetic, far too flighty, I am much better.’_

_‘Your child traumatized mine.’_

_’And **that** child dumped glitter on her, so, really, I feel like retribution has been done and that he should go for a lovely swim.’_

Cala Maria was still recovering from the grand retaliation that Mugman had done to her for _the incident._ Glitter had only been a part of it, but the fact that she still sparkled like a rainbow blew up next to her was what he was most proud of.

As the boys continued forward, ever moving, new sounds filled the air. The same direction as Cagney’s carefully cultivated temple. Gold flared on Cuphead’s back, feather etched in porcelain illuminating shadows darker than the void staring into the distance behind them with golden eyes. Lines of gold, thread-like, flickered as if made of fire down and across Mugman’s back and arms. The boys didn’t even have to look at one another before taking off.

===-====-====-=====

A long time ago, long before the boys were born, a group of people had decided the gods were asking for too much. They’d wanted to be able to get whatever they pleased without having to offer anything up in return. They’d been smart about it, many of the gods agreed about that fact. Going after the Victory brothers ensured they’d have a better chance. Out of all gods, no deities fought harder or dirtier than the Victory gods. But if taken down, and if their Domain was now granting blessings to the group, victory over the other gods would go from improbable to a matter of time. Going after the Luck god had been a bit odd, at least to the ones who didn’t want to think too hard about being locked in jars to be used however a select group of mortals chose.

But they’d underestimated many things. How brutal Ribby would get towards people who’d kidnapped and injured his brother. How fierce he’d fight upon their return. How fickle King Dice could be. And how dark the shadow that hounded King Dice was. Bon Bon didn’t want to tell the boys the group seemed to have returned. Formed by people used to and unwilling to lose their grip on ruling over cities and countries. The gods never had gotten in the way of mortals political issues, finding such things menial at best. But if someone truly wanted it, they could—and some had—go to Djimmi. With a wave of his hand, the monarch would be gone.  He’d never really followed through, not unless he and Hilda decided the head of the nation was causing more nightmares than dreams.

However, people, now that they had the startlingly comforting presence of deities back were changing. Going to gods that simply listened, didn’t care for convoluted reasons, didn’t get annoyed when a story took ten extra minutes of their time, were going to the gods again. In droves they traveled, joyous to see the beings that once brought such wonders to the world so masterfully. The group had reformed a mere three months ago, but that was enough for them, and many who were simply power hungry, to join the cult. Those who cared for the temples immediately warned their gods, instantly hostile towards the threats. The gods themselves, many thinking about the safety of their own siblings and of the two new deities, hadn’t responded kindly.

Bon Bon was one of the main ones on the hunt. She, along with every other one if she was honest, were adamant the children not be pestered or threatened by rowdy mortals who forgot their place. A few thought it to be a good way of showing their thanks to the children for freeing them from their own delusions and Inkwell. Though the gods were for the mortals, the link between a Domain and the fragile, there was no rule stating the gods couldn’t keep their freedom via their own methods.

King Dice had been having quite a bit of fun utterly decimating little factions. Some had tried sacrificing innocents off the streets to him, and he’d taken a page out of Sally’s book. He’d donned one of his countless disguises, a doe-eyed beauty, hesitantly walking down a well-lit street, clutching her purse to her stomach. Dark eyes searched the shadows, shoulders hiked up at the slightest movement. It was no wonder she’d been singled out as a prime target. Sally herself was impressed after seeing the chosen disguise. Upon laying the struggling woman on the cold ground, listening as the group of ten boasted about the grand luck they’d surely get, the lights had flickered. Nothing had changed in that moment, so they didn’t pay it any mind.

“Please!” She’d cried, pulling at the bruising grips on her thin wrists. “Please don’t! I just got my nails done!” The few closest to her had paused. One, midway through pulling out a wickedly sharp dagger rolled her eyes. The woman simply pressed on, sniffling, pretty red flush on her cheeks.

“Oh please don’t! My hair stains so easily! It’ll take weeks to get the blood out!” The lights flickered again, but as before, nothing had changed.

“And just look at my dress! Look at it you heathens! Surely you wouldn’t ruin a cashmere sweater!” Then, the lights went out entirely. When they flickered back on, weaker now, going from a ring of lights to a mere three cracked ones, in the center stood the woman, eyes a poisonous green.

“Don’t you know what sort of bad luck that would bring?” She’d said something then, a language none of them knew, and none present would ever learn. As it turned out, the area they’d chosen was a warehouse full of heavy equipment stored for later use. The boxes, _as luck would have it_ , had grown weak under the weight. It was the darndest thing, King Dice had said, shrugging. The towering stacks collapsed, and, _by chance_ , King Dice wasn’t even scratched. None had survived. It was his way of making a statement to anyone else hoping to gain his favor in trapping the other gods.

Even Devil got in on the fun this time around by himself. People still held him in high regard, remembering the good he did before being locked along side the corrupted gods. He’d taken great delight, as he chased the heels of the Luck God, in side stepping into little pockets of the group in various parts of the world. Where he left, blood remained, bodies unrecognizable. The lone portion of the group that had believed themselves smart enough to gain the strength to take down the gods via a deity, no one knew quite what had gone down.

The gods knew the faction had at first tried weaseling their way in, offering him various things such as games and potential sacrifices. He’d ignored them outright, eyes focused on the wisps of white and violet teasingly close but tauntingly far.

Until they’d offered to catch the flighty deity for him.

He _focused_ on them then.

No one in the town they’d been in slept that night, too traumatized by the wails, the screams, the pleas.

Just to be funny, in the next town over, a kid had requested a treat, and he’d pulled a sweet from thin air, passing it to them in return for a shiny rock the kid had found.

Many other gods went full out against the group.

Sally, juggling skulls she’d recently acquired in various performances, acted as if she’d always had such a marvelous set of props. Beppi, collar decorated with jaws from various species for a show a bit more morbid than usual, “unaware” of how his stage got so many new stains. Djimmi, happily showing off his new collection of newts. Hilda, leaving a trail of comas in her wake, Ribby and Croaks offering rides on the barge that went one way. Phantom Express flat out running over the ones who tried getting in his way, Blind Specter had taken to carrying a squeegee around just to clear the remains off.  Chalice scolding them in the afterlife.

Werner rode into a meeting via an army of metal horses powered by chickens wearing megaphones for some unfathomable reason. Kahl locking them in rooms, demonstrating the inevitability of their failure via slide-show boring yet gruesome enough some wound up becoming hermits after he let them go. Rumor skipping the theatrics and going right for challenging them to battles where victory meant a multitude of things. Thus far, her—and the flesh-eating beetles—hadn’t lost a single fight. Cala Maria, who couldn’t quite join in on the fun, aided her brother where she could. Things usually found in the deepest parts of the ocean began to crawl out from river banks, horrifying any and all unfortunate enough to see them. Brineybeard and Wally trying their best to avoid the worst of it while “somehow” “losing” ships that carried members. The group wasn’t small in number, that was for certain.

It certainly didn’t help that not all of the gods went the lethal route or magic route. When asked, they’d simply side-eye the direction all knew the two new deities to be in, and no other questions would have to be asked. They certainly didn’t go out of their way to help any or talk their fellow gods out of murder, but they didn’t actively participate, relying on their Domain’s to guide their judgement. The Domain’s themselves were increasingly annoyed, not fond of the idea that their children would be forced to do whatever the group wanted if the group did indeed succeed. There was talk of getting the new Domain’s in on it, but the deities vehemently refused.

Bon Bon—who had no such hesitations—took to tearing the spines out of the group members she caught, using the spines in stocks for soups, and serving the soups to the families of the offending enemies.

“Here, I found the spine your idiot, poorly raised, selfish child lost. Shame I never found their brains.” She’d said to one red faced family. She refused to apologize either, not when the group was a threat to her boys. Even Elder Kettle had taken to joining in returning fire. He’d simply overheard some of the group mentioning the new deities, and before any of the gods knew it they were decorated with various trinkets bearing runes that burned bright when a deity was in danger. More that would spring barriers up to keep any and all magic away. He was hard a work making far more powerful ones for the Karmic gods, the boys he’d raised from infancy.

His hope was Bon Bon and the rest would be enough to guard them if their Domain’s couldn’t. Thus far, all gods were confident not a single member of the group had gotten close to the boys. Rumor, army of bugs at her beck and call, was the one most often sounding the ‘morons be approaching the adorable little cuties who won’t let me pinch their cheeks but absolutely let me teach them how to snap necks with a single jab! Oh you should have seen how wonderful they were, why, sweet little Mugman took down a doll by, oh but you’d have to know of the time I taught them how to leap high onto shoulders. But also Cuphead! You should have seen how well he led a rowdy drunk into thinking he was an easy target! It was so masterfully done! Not to say—’ alarm.

If it wasn’t Cagney there first, the abilities his Domain afforded him allowing quick travel, it was Grim. If it wasn’t Grim, it was Cala or Goopy. If it wasn’t them, surprisingly enough, it was King Dice or Devil. All anyone knew of those times was that every time King Dice got ahold of Mugman, Mugman learned new ways to trick people and mess with them while his brother began the retribution. Every time Devil strolled away, Cuphead had a new trick with the shadows at his disposal, faster ways of getting multiple targets riled up to the point where common sense died a pathetic death. No one liked to think of the boys learning exclusively from those two, not with how horrifying the outcomes already were.

Though, court rooms had gotten _far_ more entertaining.

====-====-====-====

Some notable examples included:

“Well Mr. Tones, you can either serve hard labor for stealing, or you can wear whatever the owner of the store decides, and ride on a tricycle around the town advertising for them. Last I heard, the owner has a chicken suit he’s been eager to get someone into.”

“Hey buddy, it’s not my fault you decided murdering your wife was a genius idea. Don’t look at your lawyer! What do I look like to you? That guy wearing the funny wig up there? I know what you did, you know what you did, and if you keep playing dumb I’ll show you what grand prize you can win for playing the stupid game.”

“I’m not quite sure why you decided to take someone to court for this. Why are you upset again? No, I heard you the first time, but what you said he did, he didn’t. I can see he licks the icing off the bottom half of cookies before putting them back in the box so no one sees what he did until its too late…but… no actually can we focus on that?”

“Here’s how we’re going to handle this dispute. Gentlemen, before you is a briefcase. In that briefcase is your weapon. Yes, those are indeed rubber duckies glued together to make a sword. Yes, that is indeed what you will be dueling with. No, I don’t care that neither of you know how to wield swords, neither do I. Whoever gets quacked in the chest or head three times loses.”

====-====-====-====

But if Devil and King Dice protected them, and, in turn, kept the Domains happy, they too were…content. Not happy, but content.  

Now, as Bon Bon struggled to figure out how there could be so many when before there had been so few, the crickets gave off that all too familiar noise. She shoved her shotgun down the throat of a snake, pulling the trigger barely a breath later. Hastily scrubbing a chunk of flesh from her face, she cursed, stomping on the throat of a hound repeatedly.

“If my sweet boys get hurt you can guarantee not even Chalice will keep me from finding you in the afterlife and presenting the heads of your loved ones to you _one by one._ ” She seethed, heel cracking through the neck. Finished with the new pocket of cultists, something she and the others had taken to calling them, she hurried off, hoping Cagney would handle things before they saw.

====-====-====-=====

Cagney, lovely garden positively a mess around him, tore a fish in half while contemplating the various methods of getting bright blue and red flowers without dyeing them.  He whistled a chipper tune, happy that he had new fertilizer to add to his garden. Though, when the whispers from his Domain went from languid to tight, he lost the smile. Rising to his full height, he scanned his surroundings, looking for any that could have escaped. He knew the boys were near, knew they would be visiting, he’d hoped they’d take longer, and would have kicked himself had he not been what he was.

Quickly opening the ground up around a few, crushing them within the rocks below, he lunged for the last two. Unfocused as he was, he failed to notice the rune circle waiting for him. The moment he crossed it, was the moment he caught sight of the porcelain children, and the moment electricity surged through him. He locked up, unmoving, face hovering inches from the ground.

“Cagney!” Mugman immediately broke from his brother’s side, sprinting towards the nature god. The group that had been following them burst from the foliage. Cuphead paused, crossing his arms loosely over his chest as the closest one reached for him. The moment they stepped into his shadow, they pitched into the void, a single splash all that was left of them as hissing, angry and reptilian, filled the air. He heard a howl, rending the air heated and cold at the same time, behind him, near Mugman.

“You leave Cagney alone! What’s wrong with you?” Mugman, flames dripping like water from his body, smacked the hand of a reaching fabric doll away from the slumped form. The moment his hand connected, the low growl rising from the darkness around him grew, and the doll burst into a vivid golden inferno.

“Cagney?” Mugman reached for the still petals while his brother played a game of leap-frog. Having Domain’s that knew the intent of those around them made him confident he could focus on Cagney.

The nature god was still, unmoving, hands resting on the ground, one loosely spread out by his feet, the other reaching further out towards where his brother was. Mugman waited for the green of Cagney’s magic to show itself, to heal the deity, growing more worried the longer it didn’t show. He didn’t understand why his Domain was growling louder until the hand by him twitched, and shot out, wrapping tightly around one that had gotten past the whirlwind that his brother was. The bird desperately clawed for something against her chest, shouting something unintelligible at him or Cagney. Vines tore from the ground, snapping tight around the various people around Cuphead, forcing them to the ground without caring about whether bones were supposed to go that way or not.

Cagney lifted his head, copious teeth bared at the bird in his hand. His other cupped carefully around Mugman. A hound dripping shadows silently prowled in the shadow they cast, vanishing in the light, reappearing in the next shadow, ears perked high.

Cuphead immediately went to join his sibling, shadow eating up the groaning mortals as he past. The ground under his feet turned damp, then wet, then each step he took splashed.

“Cagney, what’s going on?” Cuphead called out, hoping the snarling from the flower wouldn’t be too loud for him to hear the question. Cagney responded by dropping the bird where the last sighting of the dog was. The shadows surged forward, in the shape of a heavy hand, claws like a cats extended out, burrowing into her back, dragging her down.

“Just a bit of an issue is all. A minor thing really, nothing you need to worry about.” Cagney might have been a bit hasty in his delivery, but he meant it. He surveyed the remaining ones who all sat pinned, slowly being picked off by an encroaching shadow prowling like a jaguar.  The boys simultaneously rose a single eyebrow high.

“Really!” Cagney pressed, “Nothing you gotta think hard about.  Let us handle this, it’s just some mortals that forgot getting greedy was a very bad idea is all.”

“But that’s what we’re good at fixing.” Mugman crossed his arms over his chest, resting his weight to one side. Cagney hated how Bon Bon wasn’t present, or even Djimmi. Hell, he’d take King Dice right about now.

“Well of course!” He oh so carefully pat Mugman’s head with a vine, extremely delicate in his movements to the point Cuphead burst into a fit of poorly suppressed laughter.

“He thinks these fellas’ll break us, Mugs.”

“Well now that’s silly, we’re quite durable now!”

“You broke your arm off a week ago after you tripped.”

“First of all, that was because you decided to jump attack me like a lemming. Second of all, it was a minor break and it was fixed in less than a minute.”

“Your arm came entirely off!”

“See but, there were no witnesses, so I’m saying that it was a little chip, and of course Cagney will believe me!” Cagney wished he had prepared himself for the sudden cute springing flowers in his vision around the brother in blue as he became the center of attention.

“Uh, anyway, got a few stragglers left. You go into the temple and I’ll take care of the rest. I got some new tea in there for you to try! It’s a white tea this time.” Cagney, who hadn’t quite given up on getting the kids away from seeing just how brutal the gods could be and were in some matters, tried. Some part of him hoped they wouldn’t hate him or the rest for handling the group the way he had. Oh they’d tried asking at first, and Rumor had almost gotten trapped for it. She hadn’t stopped trying to get someone to simply tell her what was wrong without forcing her hand.

She and Chalice took it upon themselves to try and glean the secrets from them. What they were thinking, what they were doing, why they were doing it, what could be done to end it without becoming ornaments. If they didn’t spill what they knew in life, they would in death, Chalice made sure of that. She’d also made a point of remaining as far from the boys as she could, but it wasn’t because she felt corruption creeping into her again. Her brother assured her repeatedly she wasn’t changing for the worse. It was because she knew how terrifying a sight she made after returning from the depths of Hell or the fields above.

Hilda tried finding answers in their dreams, observing as much as she could before taking them out if the dreams turned far too sinister. She’d taken to hiding away in dreams, simply listening as things progressed. Though, as the groups attention turned more towards the new gods, she grew more wrathful in ripping any hope of waking up from those she left behind. Especially when the thoughts of the new gods strayed towards using them to act as bait. Hilda could admit that, after having her Domain convey that thought to the boys Domains, she’d been quite amused at the slow blink and even slower barbarous grin that followed.

The boys however, weren’t quite sure how to tell the gods they knew well and good what was going on, at least to a point. Mugman could read frustration, a desire to remain in power, a desire to grow _more_ powerful, a need to ensure a spot on the throne. Cuphead could see the burning fear of losing supporters, fear of people learning how weak their leaders were in the face of the gods, fear of change. The boys knew the group wanted the gods. Knew the group was rather desperate in some regards. And those they came across found themselves face to face with the thing that lurked in the depths of retribution as scales carried their sins closer to an awaiting maw.

They knew the gods meant well, and had no problem with the gods defending themselves. Especially after learning from King Dice how horrible it was to be stuck in a tiny bottle with no foreseeable way out.

“If you ever want to get someone down, go after what they adore most. Those like me? We covet our freedom, our ability to simply go wherever we please. That bottle was the single worst thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’d do many things to _never_ go through it again. Much as I’d love to play therapist with the leaders of this silly little troupe, I know well and good where loss is certain. I don’t play games that don’t have a favorable outcome, and neither should you.” He’d said with little of his usual flair. They’d taken the words to heart.

The ones that came across them didn’t come out the same. Cuphead’s Domain tore the faults from them brutally, working hard to keep a steady pace. With Mugman now a deity, it was far easier, even more so with the fact that the ones being devoured weren’t immortal with centuries of sins on their hands. Mugman tried hard to do as some were, asking before giving them over to Cuphead’s merciless care. He wasn’t exactly hopeful a bat of lashes or cute smile would be enough to get them to change, but if he could simply glean more off of their reasoning, he could better handle the rest, even go after the leaders. Neither sibling had it in them to tell the gods they knew, and the Domain’s weren’t in the mood to snitch either, so the game they were playing was going strong.

“Sure, try to be careful though, won’t you?” Mugman pat the finger closest to him, sliding from the loose crescent grip. Cagney nodded, then threw the bird as hard as he could into the air, conveniently forgetting he’d broken one of her wings. He nudged Cuphead to follow, keeping half an eye on the others, Domain remaining anxious for reasons he couldn’t figure out. One of the ones he had trapped let out a weak cough of laughter, echoed by the others. He didn’t understand that either, not until a flare of magic lit up by his temple as the boys ran through the doors.

Cagney jerked his head to watch in mounting horror as a barrier flared bright within the doorway, trapping the brothers inside.

He blinked, and tasted blood on his tongue.

He blinked, and felt bones crumble under his countless vines.

He blinked, and found himself pounding on the door, clawing at the walls, aiming to get inside where he could see a surprising amount of people. They’d likely been planning an ambush on him, hoping to catch him off guard. When the barrier didn’t budge, when it snapped liquid heat at him, sending him back, hands scorched so severely they began to crumble, Cagney changed tactics.

Cuphead, close to Mugman, surveyed the loose circle around him. Cagney’s temple was made of light wood, with a soaring ceiling and trees that acted as the walls and roof at the same time.  The floor was a sea of flowers, walls packed with creeping vines that swept high into the air. Water dripped from above, though there was no waterfall nor nearby source of water. The lights, lanterns scattered like fireflies all around, flickered with golden fire. Mugman too, looked around, brows furrowed, lips angled down in a loose frown.

“Goodness, I have to say this isn’t the best welcoming committee I’ve seen.” He spoke lightly, rocking back on his heels, hands resting behind his back.

“There’s not even cake! That alone puts it as one of the worst.” Cuphead agreed, boot tapping a steady rhythm on the floor, splashing as a thin layer of water built up.

The group didn’t quite react, even though some gave off more hesitant desires to go through with whatever the plan was. The reason became obvious when Mugman caught sight of a book, one he was quite familiar with.

Living with Elder Kettle meant books made up a majority of their life. In an effort to reduce his chances of failing to share need-to-know information about potions or spells, he’d opened his doors for anyone to come in and look. Libraries paled in comparison to his collection, built through thousands of years of gathering up whatever caught his fancy. Of course, he had a few tomes that were _far_ from the type anyone should have any right to get near, and the one, with thick, cracked leather, was one of those. Mugman’s eyes grew icy, gold overtaking blue.

The air shifted.

A chime rang out, and the expression Cuphead wore took a decidedly _dark_ tone.  

But before the world could fade into a void of black with no end in sight, a circle neither sibling had ever seen sprang to life, chasing the shadows away. It blazed under them, kicking up wind that spun in around the walls. An odd gravity grew in the center, catching Mugman first, then dragging Cuphead closer as well. The chanting that began only grew louder, more confident when the water stopped building, when the lights burned out entirely. Cuphead grabbed ahold of Mugman’s wrist, memorizing the faces around him for later retribution. They were gods, they couldn’t die and, in fact, had already done so once before. It wasn’t death he feared coming to collect him and his brother, rather, whatever carried the scent of ink through the air as a light, brighter than everything else, snapped to life in the center.

But thoughts of revenge died fast when he and his sibling were flat out picked up by the thing, and dragged fully into the light.

====-====-====-====

Cagney anxiously watched Elder Kettle stride up to the barrier, waving his hand sharply. The barrier caved like flan in a cupboard. Cagney got the feeling it was more for the thunderous, warped expression donning Elder Kettle’s usually benign countenance than the gesture. The first thing they noticed was a distinct lack of two porcelain children. This was followed by the other gods who’d answered his panicked call also noticing the missing boys. Bon Bon cleared her throat, brushed her skirt free of a few wrinkles, and blew the head off of the closest cultist.

“I see there’s been a failure in communication!” She cheerfully spoke, tapping the trigger lightly.

“Indeed there has Bon Bon!” Sally answered, stage light under her illuminating her in a dramatic way.

“You all seem to be under the belief we were doing our best to take you down.” Rumor continued, looking down at the cat that stood below her. The one who’d been trying to slink out, and who promptly lost their head for it.

“That, acceptable casualties, is patently _false_.” Hilda tsked at the trio hastily burning a page out of the book.

“Y’all done _fucked up is what we’re saying.”_ Bon Bon finished, air shimmering around her from the heat of her rage.

“Wait! You hear that? It’s the sound of mass murder!” Djimmi finished. “Well that and my new newt collection excited for more to join in.”

“You won’t find them!” A mortal cried, a metal doll from the looks of it. Devil laughed hard enough to audibly crack a rib, he wiped a red tinted tear from his eye.

“Fortunately for us,” King Dice drawled, leaning against the slowly shifting mass of fur that was a shape-shifting Devil, “We have Domains who know more than ‘read book, say word, magic happens, profit’.”

“It doesn’t matter if we die here, we’ll go to the grave with our secrets! We’re just a fraction of—” Chalice shushed the fox, resting her finger on their mouth delicately.

“Oh my dear…” She paused, fond smile curling her red lips up. She blinked sweetly, and where white was, a void with two gleaming beacons of white hovering in the endless depths stared at them, through them. “Taking secrets to the grave _doesn’t work with me._ ”

The lights flickered, the word was sent out to the rest of the deities, and blood _rained._

====-====-====-====

Henry gazed upon the entryway—for the fiftieth time. Or fifty-sixth, really, Henry had lost count. He was sure he’d tried talking the studio into letting him carve lines in somewhere to keep track, but with his memories getting wobbly, he couldn’t be certain. He knew he’d done everything enough times that he no longer forgot everything, which was a bonus. He didn’t want to use the same tactics on Jendy who he knew was lying in wait.

Or lying in a pool of regret. Henry didn’t hold back the last time he got to Joey’s house.

Interestingly enough, Bendipe was sitting by the projector on the table. Little mustache prim and proper on his bright face. If someone were to ask how he was so calm about a cutout having a hint of personality, he’d proceed to ask them why that—out of everything going on in the studio—was what they questioned. He’d long since gotten a tool-belt from the house, happy to know whatever he grabbed from there carried on with him in his next go around.

The studio was less happy, but Henry had a barren field of fucks to offer for how much he cared what the studio felt. He’d been looking forward to celebrating the next “Hey Grandpa, the family is still going strong and oh wouldn’t you know it Henriette is dating a black guy yet the world isn’t on fire. Great future-seeing skills there Grandpa’, family gathering. If time really did carry on while he was stuck on rewind, he would have missed it by now. His only comfort was that meant his family missed his cheddar bacon soup. Which meant if they found the letter on the table, they’d be out for Joey’s blood and the studio would have the whole family to contend with.

Aunt Linda, last he checked, challenged every single date the rest brought on the last meet up to an arm-wrestling contest, and not only won every time, but won while chugging moonshine and reciting the alphabet backwards as drolly as she could.

Picking up Bendipe, he said as much, and added to that a stray thought. If he was stuck on rewind, that meant he’d never age, which meant he’d stay “spry” for however long it took the studio to get its act together and it’s IQ above that of a glass of water. The studio gave an audible groan in return. Henry, not having heard that before, paused on his way to the first hallway leading to the waste of metal and energy known as the Ink Machine. He blinked at Bendipe, Bendipe stared at him, the studio groaned again, boards visibly bending and warping under some unseen pressure. A light began to build up by the projector table, to the point where he couldn’t look at it, using Bendipe to shield his eyes.

Bendipe, hovering above him now, out of his immediate field of vision, frowned.

There was a thunderous boom, gravity slammed into him—making his knees creak in protest—then nothing. Not for a little while anyways.

“Auntie Bon Bon is going to skin them.”

“She’s going to wear their pelts as decorative but tasteless capes.”

Henry lowered Bendipe, eyebrows touching his hairline at the new voices he’d never heard before. They had an odd staticky quality, the same sound quality that came out of his TV if he was honest. With the light gone, two new toons he’d never seen before were sprawled out on the floor, not quite moving but not still. The sound of porcelain scraping together gave him an even better idea as to what they were. He—and Bendipe—went into a bit of shock. The two stood up, heads floating above their neckless shoulders. A cup, and a mug.

Henry noisily sniffed the air, gaining their attention.

“Smell that Bendipe? That’s the smell of copyright infringement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, thousands of lawyers let out their war cry, clicking their pens to prepare for battle.


	7. Merry go round 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can only hope i've changed it up enough to make it interesting to read compared to the first round in the studio.

“Mugs I think you got fatter.”

Henry watched as the red cups head was smacked into a full spin, impressively lasting no less than thirty rotations. The red cup stumbled, a tad green around the edges.

“I think that magic fried your filter, _brother._ ” The blue one, Mugs? Hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Question, before the sibling fight gets going, why aren’t you two wearing Chinese inspired clothing?”

“What?” Both brothers looked down at their Egyptian outfits, even if only Henry associated the style with a geographical area in his world.

“Fine china… you… you’re porcelain, right? It’d be a pun… Then again Victorians stored baby corpses in their dolls…so…” Now both brothers were wearing twin faces of disgust.

“Mugs, I’m gonna break my arm, tell me if you see baby bones.”

“Don’t.”

Henry’s hopes for this run being fun soared as he observed the two, wondering if he’d get names from them or if he’d have to break out the nicknames. Bendipe stared, because that’s what he did. Really though, he and the other cutouts were excitedly chattering at two pristinely on model toons in the studio seemingly unaffected by the whispers of the ink. The machine didn’t have to be on for things to get twisted anymore, and the fact that they seemed to be ignoring or simply unaware of anything, meant they’d have a solid chance of surviving Jendy. Which meant plenty of entertainment for them, and headaches for the Studio.

Really, all they wanted was more entertainment. Staring at walls got mighty annoying after a while. Or a toilet for one notably sad case.

====-====-====-====

“I’m Cuphead, and that’s my twin Mugman. We like to step into bright lights and use the gold we got on us to blind people for funsies.”

“You aren’t supposed to tell him that! It ruins the surprise!”

“You kids need to be introduced to a flash grenade, they’re far more efficient than bling blinding. Name’s Henry, this here is Bendy the Dancing Demon. Or, in his case, Bendipe.” Henry gestured to the mustache, then at the poster of the dancing devil who wasn’t sporting such a lush ‘stache. The boys greeted the both of them warmly. And it was right about that moment that Henry realized the beginning was beginning again, which meant the item hunt was back in action. He ultimately shrugged, he could just look for the items while showing them around, it wouldn’t hurt to get them familiar with the territory.

“Wait, we know a Devil too!” Cuphead piped up, examining the poster closely.

“He’s a lot more furry though…and I’m not too certain he can dance, I’ve never asked though.” Mugman added, peering closely at Bendipe who stared back. “Cuphead look! He’s got a snazzy bow tie!” The blue one seemed to be more excited about the bow tie than the demon bit. Henry was just pleased toons liked his toon.

“He’s got a tutu here, where’d it go on Bendipe?”

“Ask Joey Drew, he’s the one that commissioned these things.” Henry scratched his chin, trying to piece together why the cutouts were all the same if they were supposed to be used for reference. He would have commissioned a wide array of them for maximum usefulness and hilarity. He could picture it now, a cutout in a tutu descending on the projector booth, making Norman flail like a corn stalk in a tornado. It’d be worth the angry Scottish cussing.

“Joey Drew? Is Bendy his?”

“Hell no!” Henry squinted at Cuphead, one hand pressed to his chest in clear insult. “That weird dog thing is Joeys. _His_ name is Boris, and when we get the scourge of all that is good in this world up and running…again… you’ll meet him. He’s terrible,” Henry’s eyes went a bit glazed as memories surfaced, the boys tilted their heads in tandem. “He’ll make you do menial tasks for no apparent reason because he’s a lazy fuck…shit, how old are you two?”

“Twelve, but Auntie Bon Bon has easily exceeded those words when she stubbed her toe that one time.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Mugman shifted on his heels, tapping one finger on his nose. “I’d say Hilda wins in terms of who curses the most.”

“You weren’t there Mugs, she went off on a ten minute tangent. She told me to never tell you.”

“Nark.”

“Shoot!”

Henry glanced at Bendipe, a great big grin in them even if his face was fairly neutral. Bendipe stared back, grin a bit wider than Henry remembered.

====-====-====-====

“This here is my old desk.” Henry figured the best place to start was the very beginning, the children, because that’s what they were compared to Henry, or even Bendy if Henry was being honest. The two brothers followed behind him like ducklings, taking in the various posters and bits and oddities. Both snickered at the off model Bendy. And of course, because his old desk still had pens in the drawer, they decided they should add to the drawing. Henry watched the two doodle, finding pure amusement in watching toons draw more toons. One drew a flower looking fellow with a suspiciously cute face, the other drew a candy cane looking woman with a shot gun, or a stick, he couldn’t really tell. The genie was a nifty little addition, as was the dice with a snazzy suit. Though he wasn’t all that sure how to take the mad scientist character wielding a torch and chicken.

Neither was particularly grand at drawing, but they were having fun, and Henry was always a sucker for toons doing the doodling, so he dutifully fetched paper when it looked like they’d run out of room. A few more doodles of various characters he found amusing later; the boys were more interested in exploring more than finishing the little drawings. Henry plucked the sheets up, storing them in his shirt pocket for safe keeping, following the boys into a room full of desks.

“What’s with the bathroom in the corner with no door?”

“Ah, the shame shitter.”

Cuphead desperately tried to hide the snort, he failed miserably, Mugman however, glanced back to the door.

 “Does that mean your desk is in the shame corner?” He asked. Henry could have sworn his little cutout snorted too, minus the sound, and any motion he could definitely say he saw.

“Nah, I was the test. The newbies would hear me cursing up a storm, throwing things… They’d think that was all, then I’d shamble out covered in ink, shouting about how the last cell was stained and I needed a sacrifice to offer up to fix it. Some didn’t make it past that. Those were weak, weenies, never would have lasted more than a week. I wasn’t even the worst. Sammy once bit someone who brought coffee too close to his sheet music. Norman kept a bat named Norma by his prize projector.”

“What about Joey?”

“He tried to be nice at first, then he’d peer down at them from the balconies like a vulture, all hunched and beady-eyed. Those were the good times.” The boys nodded in understanding, breaking off to examine and explore all the nooks and crannies. Considering they came up to Henry’s hip, it was rather like watching the various nieces and nephews he had back home. Endearing in a way. He had no doubt Sammy and the rest would get a kick out of the boys at the least. Bendipe sure seemed to like them.

“Why does Bendy look so nervous here?” Mugman asked, tugging on Henry’s shirt to get his attention. Henry glanced at the sheet, humming in thought.

“He’s a nervous prankster. I figured nothing would be funnier than a demon who’s afraid of everything, including stuff like skeletons.”

“Oh he wouldn’t last long in Hell… Place is full up with skeletons.” Cuphead mused, Bendipe almost seemed to take on an amused expression, as if he’d just been issued a challenge and couldn’t wait to prove the kid wrong.

“I’m sure Devil would play nice.” Mugman pat Bendipe between the horns, giving him a sweet smile. “He’d be just fine.”

“Wheezy would set himself on fire just to see if it made him jump and we both know it.”

“I do that too, and mine can make faces.”

The boys continued to chat amiably as they left the room, trotting along, never quite straying far from Henry. Upon finding a can of bacon soup, the blue child plucked it up, mentioned something about showing it to Bon Bon, then dropped it in his shadow where it promptly disappeared. Henry stared at the shadow, glanced at Bendipe, thought ‘Did you just see that shit?’ as hard as he could towards his brain child, and made a conscious effort to not step in the shadows they cast. Nothing would stop him from asking them to show that off more later on though. He wondered what would happen if he dropped the things that powered the machine into what he could only guess was their hammer space.

He bet the damn machine would have a tizzy. The shadows flickered in the poor light.

====-====-====-====

“Mugs. Mugs I dare you to eat some of this stuff.” Cuphead held up one of the soup cans, prying at the pin that would open the lid. Henry wound up taking it from him and expertly doing it in a flash of movement.  Mugman arched a brow, and downed the can like a pro. Frankly, considering the kid didn’t have a neck, Henry was nothing _but_ impressed.

“Huh… Is it bad?”

“Oh no, it tastes like how Uncle Porkrind smelled when I first met him.”

“Then...”

“You forgot the corpse soup, didn’t you?”

“Ohhhh… shucks.”

====-====-====-====

A shutter barricaded them from going much further down one hallway, so they pressed on, to the place Henry hated the most. He hoped beyond hope there was a time when he just set the ink on fire and watched the thing burn, even if it meant death by inferno.

The boys stared at the pipe with a ‘watch your step’ sign, made a show of looking at their feet, and dramatically stepped over the pipe.

“Watch carefully Mugs, gotta do what the sign says.”

“I bet Hilda still regrets telling us that after the falling cow incident.”

Cuphead’s only response was snickering.

Both turned to watch Henry step over it, he too, watched his feet. He wondered if he could show off a little later on, do a flip over the thing. At the very least Bendipe would enjoy it, which was all Henry needed to put it on his ‘to do’ list.

Ahead of them was the Machine room. Henry squinted at the empty battery case, deep frown etched on his face, wrinkles only becoming more pronounced.

“I sure hope you kids love doing dumb things that make no sense!” Henry went from frowning to smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, he made a show of hefting a battery up and shoving it into the power block.

“We gotta do a lot of dumb stuff just to press on. That shutter back there won’t open without the power, and that means letting the world’s most depressingly poorly designed piece of robot vomit rise like Satan’s rejected torture device.” He arched a brow when Cuphead blinked once, then smiled just as wide as him, porcelain features bright under the lights.

“Well if ya wanted that thing up, all you had to do was ask! Gee, that ain’t so hard to do, right Mugs?” He nudged his brother who pressed a hand to his mouth to hide the toothy smile. Cuphead strolled off, chipper whistle fading as he went back into the hallway. One grand screech from metal putting as much effort as it could into not doing what someone wanted later, and the whistling grew louder.

“Ta da! Sure wasn’t hard at all. Like lifting a stack of paper if I’m honest.” Cuphead shrugged, like a cat that got the cream and the mouse and was just waiting for the opportunity to show off its new mouse pelt. Henry, hope in his eyes for a chance to not have to see the damn mechanic fever dream, hurried to go see the results of the show.

The shutter was peeled to the side, completely rolled diagonally due to the lack of height the child had. Henry passed Bendipe over to Mugman—who, along with Cuphead, had followed him out—and clapped. Only, he then realized that he shouldn’t be the only one to know the horrors of the shit-ass machine down there, and shuffled back anyway. That, and as he told them, he wasn’t all too certain whether breaking sequence that badly would result in the studio just making him trip down the stairs to kill him early or not. Mugman continued to carry Bendipe, allowing Henry full use of his hands.

Though Bendipe was unwieldy to the smaller toon, he seemed perfectly content to be carried around. If Henry was being honest, he could have sworn Bendipe actually shrank between one look and the next, just a bit, just enough to not risk being dragged on the ground accidentally. Mugman didn’t seem to notice nor care, so Henry shrugged it off, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that Bendipe had ever done. Besides that, this meant Henry had both hands free.

Both hands meant double the smack downs.

Both hands meant double the _fun._

====-====-====-====

The machine ascended like a hell fart. Eclipsing the room with its unpleasantness simply by being present.

“That… Is that a nozzle?” Cuphead tilted his head entirely ninety degrees, squinting at the machine hovering over the pool of ink.

“If something came out of it, it would just smack onto the rim of the bottom part.” Mugman mimicked his brother, and while Henry wasn’t looking, Bendipe mirrored his fellow toons, so all had their heads tilted.

“How are so few chains supporting it? Kahl’s donkey robot was about that size and it needed the entire metal horse army to drag it around until it figured out how to walk.”

“He really should have thought to program that _before_ starting it up…”

“It was funnier how he did it and you know it Mugs.”

Henry shed but one proud tear, the digs at the machine music to his ears.

“Just wait, this thing is the cause of all the leaks too, and when it gets going, it really shines. Like a mortar shell full of fertilizer, its true horror isn’t realized until impact.”

The boys shared another look, shrugged, and waited for Henry to lead the way.

====-====-====-====

“What’s with the sacrificial chamber?” Cuphead scratched under his handle, getting a closer look at the corpse propped up on the table. Henry just shrugged, the best answer he could give. Numerous rewinds, and he was certain he’d never come across a reason for the corpse aside from poor shock factor. Considering he didn’t care about Boris, it was hard to be scared in the least. The boys just proved his point more, entirely unphased by the body.

“Who’s laughing now? Certainly not whoever has to clean that up.” Mugman gestured to the melted wax still dripping from oddly lit candles. Which caught Henry’s attention.

“Oh hang on, who lit the candles?” He questioned out loud, only remembering how silly that was _after_ the last syllable floundered its way out his mouth.

“Is the studio open?” The boys were either blessings in disguise, or knew when to run with something. Or were waiting to spring a joke at his expense. Henry ran with it anyway.

“To hobos and thrill seekers, or drunks.”

“Well there you go!”

Henry rolled his shoulders; it was about as good an answer as he was going to get.

“He’s got a wrench in his heart.”

“Bet that put a _wrench_ in his day.” Cuphead clicked his tounge twice, gleefully waiting for the dawning realization to appear on Mugman’s face. Henry guffawed, slapping his knee a few times. Mugman giggled, hiding behind Bendipe. Cuphead threw his fists in the air, prideful grin practically sparkling on his face from the intensity of it.

After a few more loud cackles, Henry plucked the wrench from the rib cage.

“I gotta tell you boys, it—why it’s just _heart wrenching_ to see such brutality. I can’t wait to _wrench_ the throat of whoever did this.” It was Cuphead’s turn to burst into rattling laughter, joining with his brother who was outright laughing as well.

====-====-=====-====

“Oh hey, a sacrificial room! Even has the pillars for placing victims!”

“Wiat, I thought you picked up that wrench?”

“Oh yeah, this studio is a thieving thief who thieves. Picks my pockets all the damn time.” Henry poked at the wrench resting on the pedestal. Gotta get the trinkets to get the machine working, that’s when things get fun.” He finished, taking a gander at the pictures to jog his memory on what needed to be found. Both boys frowned.

“Oh dang it… I’ll have to revoke Werner’s title of ‘weirdest power source’.” Mugman snapped his fingers in an ‘aw shucks’ motion. Bendipe stared at wall, barely jostled in the secure grip.

“He’s gonna be so mad!” Cuphead smacked his forehead, staring up at the ceiling. “He worked so hard to get that thing to take insane laughter for a power source.”

“I thought he won it because of the cymbal monkey powered by the fear children let off once they saw it.”

“Nah, pretty sure that was Kahl’s.”

With that, the hunt was on.

Or it would have been had a cutout not been waiting for them out in the hallway. Henry pat it on the head.  Both brothers were entirely unimpressed, more confused than anything else. While they whispered to one another about the logistics of the wolf sprinting to get a cutout and drop it off before running back and playing dead, Henry decided to give it a bit of encouragement.

“One day you’ll be allowed to properly hide, Bootsy. I’m waiting for it, because today is not that day. Good effort though.” He told it. It wasn’t at fault for having such poor hiding skills. Henry would forever kick himself for never having a proper hide and seek episode.

====-====-====-====

Every single bacon soup can they came across they dropped in Mugman’s shadow. When Henry held the book the Studio was probably about to take the moment they looked away above the shadow, the boys nodded. The book vanished, and for a minute nothing happened. Then the studio groaned, and a book flopped out of a desk Henry knew damn well didn’t have before. He let a blank faced laugh slip out for a good fifteen seconds, much to the awe of the children. Bendipe may or may not have beamed with pride, pleased with the fact that his creator was so awe inspiring.

After that, they wandered down halls, stopping to listen to Wally rant about missed deadlines, which had the bonus of making Henry add yet _another_ reason to sucker punch Joey in the taint hard enough to relocate his pelvis into his likely empty cranium.

====-====-====-====

“Behold, the grave of projectors.”

“It’s a closet.”

“Show some respect, these things gave their lives to the art! That, or they were the ones present during the party where everyone tried chugging ink. There were a lot of casualties that day. Some things just can’t be power washed.”

“Oh goodie, another can of soup!”

“Desecration! I’m telling Norman! You hear me Joey! Bendipe, spread the word! I’m snitching! _”_

====-====-====-====

“It squeaks!” Mugman gleefully squeezed the little plush, doing a little tippy-tappy happy dance with his feet. Cuphead snorted, scrambling up a shelving unit to get at more soup cans he spotted on the top shelf.

“Oh boy, I don’t remember it quite that well, memories are getting foggy and all that, but I’m fairly certain there’s a giant one somewhere in here.” Henry stomped his foot lightly on the wooden floor, which let out a less adorable squeak.

Mugman immediately turned to his brother, who’s eyes flicked to the side and back, like Cuphead was surprised to be the focus of his brother’s attention.

“Cuphead.”

“No! I am not carting around a giant plush!”

“Giant squeaks Cuphead! Giant. Squeaks. Imagine it! Imagine having this little fella, lulling people into a false sense of security, then unleashing the mother of all squeaks on them!” Mugman pressed, giving what had to be the cutest doe eyes Henry or Bendipe had ever seen in their lives to his brother. Henry was already planning the logistics of carting around the giant plush, the idea far too grand to toss aside. It took exactly four seconds for his brother to cross his arms across his chest, pretend to be annoyed he was giving in so easily, and giving a quick nod. Mugman threw his hands in the air, cheering, Bendipe rising in the air with the movement, next to the tiny squeaky doll. The same doll that let out a victory squeak.

====-====-====-====

The cutouts were debating amongst themselves as to whether this was the best run, or if the roller skate run still reigned supreme. It was a hard match. On one hand, two toons merrily scrounging around for oddities to stuff into their shadows. On the other, Henry doing the splits around Jendy.

“Bendy in devil darlin?”

“Alliteration.”

“Being fair, it’s better than Bendy in bog bodies.”

“Oh hey, write that down, that’d make for a great episode.”

Really, it was a toss-up.

====-====-====-====

When the light under a door went out, it was Henry who knocked and, in a high-pitched voice, spoke.

“Housekeeping!” He tapped politely one more time on the door, then less politely kicked the door clear off its hinges. Considering the entire studio seemed to have been made out of cardboard, it wasn’t that hard, even if it still looked impressive. The downside was that no one was behind the door. Henry hated to know his grand entrance was wasted, but they got the record out of it, so he figured it wasn’t a total loss.

That, and a metric ton of cans. Henry almost wanted to ask where they went, but he got the feeling they didn’t quite know either. Toon logic didn’t really care much for explanations. Most of Henry’s earliest cartoon ideas had been silly things just _because._

“He will set us free. Who?”

“No idea, I’m stuck in this freaking loop same as anyone else.”

“Loop?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve done all this no less than fifty times before. The studio changes every now and again, but I’ve gotten all the way to the depths plenty of times. It’s a headache and a half. I had a family get together to go to next week, and instead I’m stuck here. Grandma Betty said she was going to show us all how to remove knee-caps in three simple motions too! I’ve been wanting to know how she did it since I was a kid!”

The twins frowned.

“Have you tried leaving?”

“Of course, it just spits me back out in the entrance hall. There’s no way that I’ve found that gets me out of here. Not that I can remember, after every run my memories get all fuzzy, but because I’ve done this so much, I got way more memories than blank spaces. Studio gonna regret that, that’s for damn sure.” Henry hefted up the wrench he’d brought with him, a particular gleam in his eye.

“Goodness, that sounds terrible, not the regret bit, that sounds fun.”

“I’m making due, at some point this studio has to realize spitting me out is for its own safety, I just hope it does that after I’ve exacted revenge on Joey…again. Either way, I don’t think that phrase is meant for me. Or anyone here if I’m being honest.”

“There are more?”

“Down lower, sure. Gotta start the machine first….and they’re off. Wow…” Henry turned to Bendipe who’d been hastily passed over to him. “Excitable lil fellas aren’t they?” He stretched his neck, rolled his shoulders, ignored how it seemed as if Bendipe was nodding in agreement, and went to go see what the toons were up to.

====-=====-====-====

“I’ve got the cutouts!”

“I’ve got the boards! Which one of our Domain’s has the knife!”

“I don’t remember!”

A thunderous crash, an impossible number of odd things— including a chicken with a megaphone on it’s beak, a metal horse that smelled heavily of cheese, a flock of seagulls, all the cans they’d collected thus far, numerous lethal weapons, and four fish. Oddly enough, the fish got the most exasperation from both siblings. Henry sat on a rickety chair, Bendipe propped up beside him, watching as the boys flitted about, collecting oddities. At one point, Henry could have sworn he saw Cuphead whittling a wizard hat out of one of the many boards strewn about the studio. Mugman raced by with a bunch of yarn, trailing a bright green scarf knit faster than Henry could comprehend behind him as he hunted for whatever it was he was looking for.

====-====-====-===

Glue. It was glue. The cutouts from all over the floor lined the lever room in a circle, all had little hats—some knit, some made of wood—and all had varying expressions. None broke the smile, but the meaning behind the smile varied from the wobbly smile of confusion, to the excited smile of anticipation.

“Oh shoot!” Cuphead shouted, stopping midway through applying glue to another horn. “Neither of us know backwards Latin!”

“That’s right!” Mugman froze, draping knitted glasses haphazardly over the cutout’s face. “King Dice hadn’t been able to teach us without Devil interrupting!”

“Dang it, I knew that would come back to bite us! Now how are we gonna summon him to see him take on whatever is keeping Henry here?”

Henry rested his hand over his heart, oddly touched as understanding dawned on him. A lone tear rolled down his cheek.

“Bendipe, they aren’t ours, but by the thousands of mechanics above will we keep em safe like they were.” He might have had a bit of wobble in his voice, Bendipe was too busy agreeing to care.

=====-====-====-====

Touching demon summoning aside, they still had three items to find, and now that the boys had made a bit of a mess of the studio, that made it harder, more annoying, and Henry was seriously regretting leaving the weed whacker back home. The gear, the book—because they’d forgotten to grab it apparently, Henry hoped Jendy wasn’t around to see _that_ flub—and the ink pot. Still, having two little toons eager as ever to explore all sorts of places Henry and Bendipe couldn’t fit made for interesting discoveries. Like a shoe that had a family of spiders in it. He couldn’t recall ever hearing such a high-pitched scream when the blue one flailed after picking up the thing and becoming swarmed.

Henry had to hide behind Bendipe to keep his soundless cackling from being seen.

The gear proved to be the most annoying, though the ink pot was the second closest. Henry got so annoyed he just started picking up any and all ink pots he found, stuffed them in his pockets, pretended to forget about them, and get angrier when they didn’t magically poof away. The gear, tucked away by the ink machine, turned out to be the best camouflaged.  He wound up smashing the thing into the little podium marked for it as hard as he could. The dent didn’t do much to make him feel better, but it was better than nothing he supposed.

Mugman was only talked into giving the plush over when Henry promised a sea of squeaky plushies in much better shape waited lower in the studio. He squeaked the thing one last time, put it on the pedestal, and waited. When the little screen told the lot of them low pressure, Cuphead scoured the area for a switch or lever, moving decorated cutouts that hadn’t moved since being placed in a summoning ring.

“I think it’s in another part of the studio actually.” Henry drawled, squinting at the open hall. Both siblings blinked at him, blinked at one another, then looked at the ground.

Cuphead was the first to look back up, tips of his index fingers pressed together under his mouth. “But why?”

“Because the people who designed this had excess pipe and sure as shit weren’t going to waste it? Because Joey hates sensible ideas? Because the Studio is a raging pile of incompetence? Take your pick kid, I’ve yet to settle on just one reason.”

“But we spent all that time looking for these things, how could we miss a lever? Is it small?” Mugman used his hands to indicate what he meant by small, holding his hands close together as if giving a size estimate.

“Nope.”

The boys looked down again.

Then, quietly, haltingly, “Do you think any of the others will ever find out about this?”

“As long as no one narks, our titles as hide and seek champions should remain safe. You got that? Make sure neither of us ever mention this incident.” Mugman said the last bit to his shadow. His shadow, which nodded, blatantly. An odd reptilian hiss came from Cuphead’s shadow, like a crocodile was in the room, laughing at them. Henry wondered about the true power of toon logic.

====-====-====-====

“See, down this hallway, Bendipe usually pops out from behind the corner like he’s playing peek-a-boo, it’s adorable! Considering I’m holding him though, I figure one of the other cutouts will do it. Not sure what else would. Yet to see Boris get off his lazy ass a second before he has a soup hunt prepared for me.”

Henry grumbled the last bit, scratching his chest loosely as they turned the corner. The two snickered, trailing in behind him to his right. The lights of the hallway, flickering every once in a while, spontaneously went out once they reached the spot where Bendipe usually poked his head out. When they popped back on, it wasn’t another cutout.

It wasn’t anything, not for a moment.

A gloved hand eased around the corner, fingers digging grooves into the wood. Henry glanced at Bendipe, not nearly as amused as usual. When his little cutout did the peek-a-boo thing, it was cute, and he’d punch anyone that said otherwise. When who he _knew who that was_ did it, there wasn’t even an ounce of cute. Not considering the fact that he shouldn’t even be seeing the thing yet. Which only meant he could have ignored bringing the hunk of regret from its stupid ink puddle. If the studio thought he wouldn’t be taking that to mean breaking sequence was fine, it was going to regret more than giving Henry someone to carry Bendipe when one free hand wasn’t enough for _shenanigans._

He could see the brothers out the corner of his eye, but couldn’t exactly figure out how they were reacting simply because they weren’t in the right spot.

The lights flickered again, and surrounded by inky shadows, stood Jendy. He grinned at them all, the lights once again struggled to stay on. Henry hoped Jendy knew he was more aggravated about the lights than anything else. Right up until something whispered behind him, there was a scream, and the lights fought off whatever was ruining their long-standing record of eating up power that should have been cut long ago.

Henry turned in time to see a soup can fly out of the blue child’s shadow like a beacon of glory, like Thor’s hammer, like a perfectly pitched baseball. Jendy, having been subject to Henry’s habit of lashing out when startled, narrowly avoided it. He rose to his full height, leering down at Mugman who’d been trailing behind the rest. At least Jendy _was_ grinning.

Then the second soup can came out like an avenging angel, impacting so hard it left a visible dent on Jendy’s pelvis. Jendy went down _hard_. A third can cracked him across the face when he looked up weakly from his crouched position, toppling him over entirely. Cuphead then proceeded to angrily jump on his face until he melted into the safety of the floor, wheezing pitifully the whole time. A lone can, dented to the point of bursting rolled across the floor slowly, the only noise in the sudden silence besides a low hum. Henry was the first to burst into manic cackles, throwing his head back and everything.

Mugman, who was now scowling at the inky stain on his shoulder, pulled the sheer gold fabric off, dropping it into his shadow, glaring darkly at the spot Jendy was before.

“Next time, I’m just setting him on _fire._ ”

In the depths of the ink, a little demon clapped giddily.

====-====-====-====

The laughter stopped when Henry actually realized the pulsing sound was the very one the ink machine made when it was turned on. Then the pipes started groaning, ink began to pool under their feet, and a splotch of ink landed _far_ too close to Bendipe. Henry scooped both children up under his other arm, finding them surprisingly light considering the fact that porcelain wasn’t usually so light. As he sprinted for a dry spot, racing through the halls, children dangling under one arm, Bendipe staring at them from his other arm, he wondered if that meant they were actually hollow.

The ink continued to rise, pipes burst spontaneously, the kids cheered as something unseen in the shadows ripped doors clear off hinges as a means of helping him. He didn’t particularly dwell on that, well aware the studio had done equally weird things. His main worry was getting Bendipe to safety, and finding a spot to truly test if the kids were susceptible to the ink the way the other creatures were.

The exit door shone like a beacon of hope, but to Henry it was a potential chance to find a dry spot, even if it was just resetting the studio to the default beginning. In his haste to find a not so inky spot, and distracted as he was at the realization that Jendy started the damn thing, because who _else_ would unless it was Boris, and he wouldn’t know that until he could _interrogate_ the guy, he failed to remember one key detail. Namely, that the floor was made by forest nymph corpse dust.

The wood cracked, he gave the studio a _very_ unimpressed stare, complete with an ‘I’m disappointed in you, I really am. No, the corner is too good for you, go sit on the fridge and think about your shameful existence’ frown. The kids continued to cheer, even changing the ‘yay!’ to a ‘wheeee!’ which, at least that meant two of them were having fun.

Only, instead of plunging into the depths, the world went black. It felt like he hit water, his back stinging from an unseen impact, but when he regained his vision, he was where he usually landed, minus the astounding pain followed by unconsciousness. The kids paused for a single breath, spotted the coffins, and proceeded to play rock paper scissors to see who would open one first.

Henry, because he was Henry, dared one of them to stuff a coffin in their shadow for later use. The tiny part of his mind desperately clinging to reality let go, toon logic delivering the final blow to its sanity.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine having something with all the force of a cannon firing directly at your pelvis at near point blank range. Jendy don't have to. Jendy lived that shit. Jendy gonna snap, crackle, pop with every step.  
> And there ain't no way to explain the shoe prints in his face. He's gonna be hiding in his own shame corner for a while.


	8. Chapter 2 4 1

“Gotta say, normally I’m in a lot of pain on the floor. Good to know the circle is premade. I’ve been wondering if it slapped down while I was in a heap or… Well that and if it was _only_ black magic shenanigans going on.”

“Well I’d imagine white magic shenanigans wouldn’t really show up on this light wood.”

 “…”

“Henry?”

“I see, a worthy opponent.”

“Please don’t tempt Cuphead into more puns.”

“Wood you say that’s a bad idea?”

“Mugs, I’m _knot_ sure you mean that.”

Bendipe watched, cardboard practically shaking with mirth, as Mugman immediately began prying the lid off of a coffin to escape.

“I knew my puns would be the death of someone.”

Bendipe _almost_ cackled when Mugman changed gears, and simply hid his laughter by using Bendipe as a shield, ducking down behind him in a showy huff. Henry watched as the child’s shadow warped to smile. There wasn’t much else it could be doing other than defying logic and smiling. Old Henry would have flipped shit, bailing at the earliest opportunity. War Henry would have wondered what new gas the axis had come up with. Current Henry just thought it looked neat.

“ _Axe_ me if I believe he ain’t laughing right now. He’s just mad he didn’t start the puns.”

“I’m not!” It wasn’t any more believable between audible giggles. Henry and Cuphead low-fived each other.

It was nice to not hurt like a bitch from what Henry could only guess was the lead builder’s way of testing new construction workers. He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what else it could be. There was no reason for a hole to be hidden by wood as thick as an eyelash. He picked the axe up, pushing the boards off the door, quite pleased to have company not slathered in ink and spite. Bendipe was fantastic company of course, but it was equally nice to have more. With Mugman carrying Bendipe, the axe tucked into an empty spot in his tool belt, Henry was ready and raring to go. Right after the boys discovered the stupidity that was the other hallway with the boards going different directions.

“It makes no sense though!”

“Yeah well, some of us have different hobbies. You dance, I knit, this person throws tantrums in hallways. Besides, this is nothing compared to Werner’s antics.”

====-====-====-=====

Down the stairs, past the board falling for no reason—

“Of _course_ there’s a reason, I’ve seen some pretty hefty ghosts. We got coffins, there’s no way we don’t have ghosts.”

Past the utility shaft 9 sign no one quite cared to ponder beyond wondering where the other eight were; they came to the bowls of soup and one of the many pieces of graffiti.

“Gotta say, I never noticed how precise the penmanship is here. It’s exactly the same as the stuff upstairs.” Henry remarked, scratching at the ‘free’.  Out the corner of his eye he spotted Mugman poking at one of the bowls, a strangely contemplative gleam in his eye.

Henry didn’t have siblings. He wasn’t even remotely versed in the many nuance’s siblings had. The fact that he was thoroughly confused at the fact that the porcelain making up Cuphead’s face went pure white—something he didn’t think possible having never seen something go from white to super white—was no surprise. Bendipe didn’t know either, and though he was close enough, he too, couldn’t decipher how a thoughtful look could warp so fast into a devious one, then into a purely innocent one. But hell if he didn’t want to _learn._ It was when he picked the bowl up quite nonchalantly that Henry got the gist of the silent chat going on between the two.

“No. Nope. I’m not exactly leaping out of my shoes to discover whether porcelain can get food poisoning. For all you know there’s new life forms in there doing the backstroke.” He carefully took the bowl from a _still_ far too thoughtful Mugman. Henry, master of shenanigans that he was, sensed a _disturbance_.

====-====-====-====

Somewhere, in another universe, there was a Goddess who was busy painting the walls with blood, pausing a second to wonder why she had a strong urge to slap her forehead. Followed by a _very_ strong urge to demand her boys go outside before doing whatever their adorably imaginative minds were thinking up.

This only fueled her wrath when she then realized her boys were indeed not there for her to send outside anyway. She proceeded to carve the spine out of a wolf, tie it in a bow, and continue on her rampage.

====-====-====-====

In the Studio, however, there was no means of getting outside even if she’d been there. There was only waiting for the only potential adult in the room to look away. It didn’t take long, not with Henry getting distracted by the audio recording. Right before the end of it, heavy sounds of gagging and muffled curses in a language Henry couldn’t begin to recognize drowned it out. He turned, a bit angry at himself considering he was _surprised_ to see Cuphead frantically scraping his tongue with some linen on his arm while his brother watched. Quite sadistically if Henry was correct. It was distracting enough he didn’t even realize the end of the tape had run.

If memory served him right, Sammy was supposed to speak by now. Yet, Henry hadn’t heard him. Sammy was a powerful speaker; his voice easily took over everyone else’s when he wanted to. Then again, there had never been two new toons, Sammy was likely off his game. Much like the studio considering the memories of the studio were fuzzy, but not outright impossible to grasp. He _knew_ he was going to meet Sammy. He _knew_ Sammy spoke, but he wasn’t too sure of much else. Still, there were plenty of reasons for it. Henry dearly hoped the main reason was that Sammy had his sanity still, and was waiting to surprise Henry. He played it again anyway, with the idea that Sammy might have simply missed his cue over the noise of regret.

“Is—oh that was slimy—is he talking about that ink guy up there?” Cuphead coughed out, reaching for distractions while digging in his shadow for something.

“Final loving embrace? That sounds like a formal hug.” Mugman dutifully followed up, even if the amusement rang clear as day in his voice still. Cuphead, brushing his teeth, glared at his sibling. Henry, distracted by the various reasons Sammy would have avoided speaking, shrugged, so Mugman continued.

“I don’t want to be hugged by that fella. He smells weird.” Before Henry could question how close Jendy had gotten if Mugman knew how he smelled, the brothers got distracted by more coffins. Henry observed Cuphead grabbing his own handle, pulling his head from his shoulders, putting it into the shadows, and coming back out without any toothbrush and clean of the few splashes of ink that had hit him.

Sometimes, Henry hated the rules of reality and anatomy, never _once_ in his life did he loathe his lame fleshy neck _more._

Mugman must have caught him watching Cuphead, since he was smiling at Henry, one hand reaching up.

“I tip my head to you good sir!” He chirped, doing just that. He raised his head up by the handle, followed closely by Cuphead mimicking the motion.

“I never thought I’d say hats are lame but… comparatively? Yeah.”

The boys snickered.

“Elder Kettle used to stack us when we got too rowdy. It’s hard to control our bodies when we can’t see em.”

“It was only horrible when Cuphead forgot to scrub under his mouth.”

“You’re just mad I got dirt on you.”

“Not _on_ me, in my _soul liquid._ It was gross!” Mugman smacked his brother’s arm, face the epitome of insulted.

Henry wondered if the snickering was from Sammy or Bendipe. Really, it was hard to tell considering it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Wanting to find Sammy overpowered his desire to just let the boys play fight, so he made to go down the hall. He wasn’t going to make them stop fighting of course, they weren’t being rowdy by any means, careful of Bendipe at all times. So there was no need to pause any longer, that is, until a tiny bit of that conversation reached him.

“That stuff isn’t vodka?”

Cuphead, playfully keeping his brother’s head from the body, one hand pressed firmly against the torso to keep grasping hands away, blinked in confusion.

“This stuff?” He tipped Mugman’s head, the blue tinted liquid splashing with the gesture. “No, that’s our soul liquid, though there was that one time you poured a whole glass of vinegar in there.”

“How else was I supposed to get that drunk to stop asking for a sip of ‘moonshine’?” Cuphead acquiesced, dropping his brother’s head above empty shoulders where it continued to float.

“I coulda just eaten her but that worked pretty well too.” Cuphead led the way. Henry kept behind, enjoying the conversation quite a bit. They paused at the other cutout, smiling quite wide at them. Henry dutifully pat it on the head, wishing it luck in seeing whether the soup produced lifeforms that could walk any time soon. Cuphead turned a bit green at the mention of said soup.

“Do you have any stories?” Mugman asked Henry, letting him take Bendipe. Henry, who gestured for one of the boys to climb onto his back, still not wanting to take a chance on the toons stepping into deep ink, reached into his repertoire.

“I have plenty, but, I think this one is best for this location.” He plucked Mugman off the ground, Cuphead safe atop his shoulders. “So there’s a winter here that’s pretty infamous. Long ago, back before the studio went to hell in a handbasket, we had a pretty nice thing going. I was the lead animator, Joey was the producer and business lead, Sammy was our sound guy, and Norman was our projectionist. We had plenty more, like Wally, Tom, even a voice actress for Alice Angel, who you two haven’t met yet.”

He stepped through the ink, keeping Bendipe close to his side to avoid the ink pouring from the ceiling. The sheer lack of maintenance on a sheer terrible machine amazed him, even now. “Well, one winter, stress was higher than Joey’s ruthless streak during peak season. We had four cartoons that needed to be finished, music for only two of them, chunks missing out of three of them, and someone lost the last fourth of the final one.” He felt a rather astounding amount of relief when a flicker of movement caught his eye by the doorframe at the other end of the hall.

“So, I figure we ought to relieve some of that stress. It’s hard to be funny when you’re waiting for the slightest excuse to reorganize a co-worker’s internal organs via chainsaw after all. Well what better way to do that than snowball fight! But no ordinary fight will do. Nope! We’re a creative bunch. So, I get the word to Sammy, he was closest at the time. And what does he do? He takes this tuba, runs outside, fills it full up with snow, runs _back_ in, and tells Joey he’s got a cool little tune for the toons. Joey, trusting bastard at the time, misses the emphasis on cool. So he leaves his office, and bam! One tuba full of snow dumped over his head later, the war starts.” He listened to hasty footsteps scamper away, the owner of said steps realizing he wasn’t supposed to be seen yet. Taking in the enraptured stares the boys were giving him, practically leaning to hear more, he continued.

“When I say war, I’m not exaggerating either. Joey, coated in snow, got front row seats to me shoving a bucket of snow down Norman’s shirt, Wally leaping through the air like a lemming at two of the animators, snowballs aimed at their faces, and the band sprinting outside to start getting a stockpile. The only rule? No water in the animation department. Other than that? All bets were off. I’m talking full on massacre of snowy proportions. Not a single one of us wasn’t soaked through by the time we were done. And we only called it because we’d moved all the snow from outside the studio to inside. Joey had clumps of snow all over his hair, I had fashioned boots out of snow to catch incoming projectiles with style. Sammy, at one point, broke out the banjo to add to the drama.”

He stepped out of the ink hallway, but the brothers were too busy enjoying the story to hop off the Henry express. So he just shuffled over to the wall o’ cans to press the button he vaguely recalled being there. Doubly amused yet not at the shadowy hand that started snatching cans off the shelves when Henry wasn’t looking in that direction. Peripheral vision continued to force Henry to ponder whether it was a blessing or a curse to have.

“Even when I was leaving, Joey _still_ ducked at the sound of a tuba.”

“Who won?” Both asked at the same time, Cuphead reaching for the cans on the top shelf to nudge them off into the shadows below.

“We decided it was a tie between Sammy and Norman. You ever see a six-foot-eight guy scream ‘for the glory, for the projectors’ while shoving a massive pile of snow off the roof down onto four guys? And Sammy blowing snowballs out of the French horn like a pro… I don’t think he missed even one target.”

Button pressed; it was only then that Henry remembered there were other ones across the hallway. Instead of annoyance, Henry saw it as a chance to go into another story, much to the delight of his audience. It was even enough that he missed the giant Bendy statue tucked away in a nonsensical hidey hole. He’d be displeased, annoyed, unsurprised, and nonplussed, later. For now, he had the cheese grater incident of ’22 to talk about.

====-====-====-====

“This is entirely useless.”

“They couldn’t have used a more straightforward way of blocking the path? Have none of these people ever built a pillow fort? Pillow forts are excellent ways of blocking paths, far better than shutters.”

“If they did, the forts probably fell after a stiff breeze, or were impossible to navigate out of.”

====-====-====-====

As the gate slid open, the boys climbed on the statue. Simply because there was no one there to stop them from doing so while the worlds slowest gate rose, got stuck at one point, had to be kicked back into motion, and finished going up. Of course, upon seeing the door blocked by five boards, directly behind it, both children threw their hands in the air, exasperated confusion near tangible.  Henry let Cuphead tear the boards clear, plucking Bendipe from the ground instead to follow the boys.

The space, far larger than the previous spaces, with plenty more directions to go. The posters held their attention for just a minute, just enough for Henry to start the tape sitting on the ledge. Henry laughed without smiling at Sammy’s remark about the ink machine. The laughter got harder at the pump switch solution, but not once did a smile grace his features. Not until the boys ran by, one carrying a long board, the other carrying a shorter one.

“Already _board_ with this place?” He called out, eyebrows rising as they trot down the stairs.

“We can see the top half of the door, so we’re going to try and break through it, but there’s a lot of ink so we need a bridge!” Cuphead hefted his board over his head, calling for his sibling to be careful.

“Might as well just find the pump and clear it that way.” Henry told them, waving vaguely at the rest of the studio. The boys paused, faces scrunching up at the idea. Right up until the board went into the ink, and didn’t hit a floor. Bridge idea ruined, they trudged back up to Henry, spirits dampened just a tad. Henry got it, he didn’t want to do as the studio demanded either, but the ink was its strongest part, and he wasn’t one to run into enemy territory if he didn’t have a good idea what to expect.

Henry flipped the switch, the quartet left the room, and it was when the ink sprang up from the floor quite violently that Henry remembered what the switch _also_ activated. He cursed, shoving Bendipe at Mugman. Cuphead sprang at the closest inky being, tearing the head from its shoulder brutally while Mugman nimbly danced around enemies, avoiding the swings with ease. Henry and Cuphead cleared the room a tad more brutally than usual, but the searchers had almost hit Bendipe, so mercy wasn’t even considered in Henry’s case.

When they thought it was clear, aiming to go up to the second floor, yet another sprang out, only this one landed a hit on Henry’s thigh. He looked at the splotch of ink left, looked at the creature, looked at the splotch, and sighed.

====-====-====-=====

The projectionist’s booth was empty of anything interesting aside from Norman’s complaints. If Henry closed his eyes—and ignored the squirming lump of ink giving off pathetic bubble noises—he could pretend he was back with the gang, instead of choking out a searcher while two toons tried to figure out how to work the projector. Starting it, then the recorder, he steadily increased his grip until the squirming stopped, feeling warm and fuzzy as the two watched the little snippet of a cartoon. He’d have to scrounge for full reels for them to enjoy considering how the two focused almost entirely on the screen, ignoring Norman’s remarks.

Trotting back down, they found a room that barely fit the billiard table stuffed into it, which led into a hot debate whether the thing was added before the door or before being put together. Then there was mention of missing pole cues, no means of making a perfect triangle, and two minutes of trying to sink the remaining balls as elaborately as possible. Which led to Henry learning of someone called Mangosteen. Though, Cuphead was less versed in trick shots than Mugman was. Henry just tricked them into looking the other way while he shoved two into the netted holes. He took to whistling cheerfully when they squinted suspiciously at him. Bendipe, tucked under one arm, laughed silently.

====-====-====-====

The train outfit was cute enough it got Cuphead grumbling as he pulled fabric after fabric out of his shadow, looking for the correct ones to start on an outfit for Bendipe.

“It’ll replace the bowtie, so I’m not seeing how that’s an upgrade.”

“But think about how delighted the Phantom Express will be!”

“Fine, but I’m making the bandanna red.”

“Well what _other_ color would it be?”

A toon deep in the ink nodded in plain agreement with the blue brother’s statement.

====-====-====-====

The main recording room, with its instruments and audience of one cutout watching from the upper booth, kept their attention quite a while. In between full on laughing at Susie claiming Alice could ever match Bendy, chuckling as Mugman did a little dance with Bendipe to the little tune Henry bust out on the violin, and trying out the other instruments, the studio almost seemed to relax, just the slightest.

Right until Henry made remarks on the many uses of banjo’s and banjo strings. The wheezing was enough of an answer for Henry’s ever-present question: “was Sammy being a silly stalker while I was wasting time?”

He’d be a bit annoyed knowing he could avoid a lot of hassle if Sammy would simply have helped out, but the boys were making quick work of exploring every nook and cranny, so there was that. Exiting the room, wondering whether their shadows had umbrellas or not, and how fun it would be to try splashing in a Goopy le Grande puddle. That idea was quickly dismissed with simultaneous shudders, and they were off down the hall.

The ink puddle caught their attention first, leading them down the hall. Now, Henry’s memory, though fuzzy, was still vaguely clear enough that he knew he’d simply climbed through the gap in the wall to get into the office. This time, there was a waterfall of ink keeping him from doing so. His eyebrows made the climb, rising higher and higher alongside Henry’s indignation.

“Look,” He said loudly to the nearest wall. “I wasn’t going to see about testing the flammability of _everything_ but if you make me take the roundabout way to get in this office, I swear to hell I’ll bring the chainsaw _and_ the weed-whacker, and I’ll be digging into the goodies box from here on out.” His voice was steel, threat crystal clear. In response, an ink bubble in the little pool of ink popped. Henry gave it a minute more, and when the waterfall didn’t stop, nodded.

“I see war has been declared. Shame. Damn shame. Mugman, you’ll have to hold onto Bendipe, if you don’t mind. I’ll need two hands from here on out.”

“Sure!”

The studio, had it been able to, would have broke out into a sweat. Since all it had was ink, the ink ran just a bit more than usual.

====-====-====-====

Henry examined the little joke on the desk, wondering how lame Joey had become if a silly little joke warranted a warning to not let him see. Then he figured he didn’t care, Jendy was going to learn whether he had a colon or not, and what it looked like up close and personal when Henry found him next. If the beat down included meandering talk about Bendy’s many faces, well, that was simply how Henry’s brain worked.

Listening to the recorder mention Wally losing his keys just made Henry dismantle the tape recorder, reconfigure it, and leave it playing “stupid garbage can” repeatedly.

====-====-====-====

Henry was fairly certain if it wasn’t for the toons making a game out of finding all the garbage cans, he’d likely have found some place relatively safe for Bendipe and then just set the entire building on fire. Set the ink in the pipes ablaze first, wait for the fire to spread…

“Why stuff the pipe organ in its own room?”

“I wish I could say it was because Sammy knew Joey’s office was above this, but I don’t know if it was there at the time. I hope that was the case though.” Henry tore a couple pipes from the wall, ignoring the pained scream heard any time the piano was played. He had far too much revenge to follow through with to care about whatever the studio was trying to throw at him. The boys did glance at one another nervously, peeking under the instrument to try and find whoever was making that noise. Henry simply tore another pipe off, swindled some wires, loosened others—his tool belt was one of the ages and if the place thought he wasn’t going to use it, it was in for _pain._

====-====-====-====

The keys were held aloft by a very proud Cuphead, and promptly carted back to the closet, next to the waterfall still going strong. Which was fine. Henry had _plans._ The _plans_ grew as yet another silly barrier sprang up. Henry wondered if he had enough pipes to follow thorough with what he was going to do to Sammy.

“Sammy, if you can hear me. If I have to play your stupid tune I swear on Bendipe I will put your nipples in a place no studio magic can find.” Henry called out. He wondered if Sammy was sane enough to know Henry wasn’t lying. There was no response, which meant several things. The biggest being Sammy was likely still too hopped up on worship fumes to hear the peace offering.

Shame really. Damn shame.

====-====-====-====

Playing the instruments was easy enough, so was watching the even slower shutter rise. When that one jammed, Henry forced it into the ceiling. The thing folded like cardboard, which meant he could have done what he just did and be done with it. He stared at a wall for a few seconds, then nodded, and strode in. Reading the words on the wall, watching Mugman immediately go for the squeaky plush on the table, he got to work on the flow valve.

Turning around, at the end of the hall, stood a cutout with a little sign. He trudged over, listening as the valve behind him started to groan, prompting the kids to bail while they could. As the pipes burst, showering the sanctuary with ink, Henry cracked a smile, kept up even as he read ‘there’s a second valve.’ The boys however, groaned, less than pleased at the runaround.

It was quite misfortunate that a surprisingly high number of searchers sprang up the second he took a step towards the door. Misfortunate for them that is, Henry pulled one of the pipes from its spot on his back, hefted it a smidge—testing the weight of course, had to be _sure_ —then, giving the nearest searcher an appraising look.

The searcher saw many lives flash before its eyes, but the panicked attempt at fleeing wasn’t enough.

What Cuphead did to the one that managed to land a hit on his brother paled in comparison to what Henry did. Not because it wasn’t as brutal, but because Cuphead’s was meant as retribution. Henry’s was meant to send a _message._ The room cleared out faster than either of the two combatants really thought it should. Ink coated the room, the two pipes used were to a degree that made them impossible to continue using. Gold light healed the cracks spreading up Mugman’s damaged leg, Bendipe, still held above Mugman’s head, rid himself of a tiny dot of ink that had splashed onto his shoe before Henry spotted it. Cuphead scowled at the ink coating his arms and chest, splattering across his pants and boots.

Of course, as Cuphead dove into his shadow, Henry happened to spot the pie-cut eyes of Bendipe angled up, as if Bendipe was looking up at something. Turning, he took in the sight of Jendy standing in the box room to the side of the projector booth, staring at them. Mugman caught sight too, a hint of a frown on his face.

Henry was in a heavy debate, if he used the axe, the thing would dissolve like tissue paper in a flood. If he used the pipe he’d have to get more, which meant listening to more whining from whoever was stuck in the thing. But letting Jendy go was _simply out of the question._ His answer was given to him as Jendy spontaneously combust. Vivid golden fire sparking at his chest, then erupting in a bright inferno. He squinted, taking a step back, rather surprised. Jendy seemed just as surprised. If anything, Jendy seemed to have stopped all upper brain functions while whatever sat in that head computed the fire making the ink covering him bubble.

Then the screeching and flailing began.

“If you’d like to join him up there, the fire won’t hurt you, and you won’t catch fire yourself.” Mugman tossed out, casually looking for any imperfections Bendipe might have gained during the battle. Henry smiled, quite widely in fact. Jendy—and everything that made him up—immediately tried to remember how to make a portal. Henry started to scale the wall, using his hands and the old boards to gain purchase. The gleam in his eye spoke not of murder, not of suffering, but of _vengeance._

It was by pure luck that Jendy figured out the portal thing moments before the pain from the fire became too much, and/or was replaced by whatever Henry had planned. The fire sizzled out in the realm of ink, leaving Jendy to sit in agony as ink struggled to repair him.

When Cuphead learned he’d missed a small show, he shrugged, quite positive there’d be more if Henry’s peppy step was anything to go by.

====-====-====-====

The infirmary being cleared instead made zero sense to Henry, but at this point he was certain the place was designed by lemurs high on lsd and cocaine. When seeing that absolutely nothing was covered in ink beyond the floor, Henry flopped onto the bed, ruining the linens out of spite. The searcher popped up, took one look at the death in Cuphead’s eyes, the pitiless void that was in Mugman’s, and the _squint_ from Henry, coughed a bubble, waved, and bailed.

“Henry, the valve is missing”

As it turned out, the pillow was great for muffling angry rants.

====-====-====-====

“Uh…” The toons looked at the ink pool, then at Henry.

“Okay kids, just remember, when designing buildings, be sure to put giant pipes used to transfer ink directly next to the infirmary. That way the people resting can stay high off ink fumes. Don’t want them losing that creative streak don’t cha know?”

“I’m far more offended at that sinner remark. I’ll have you know I asked about my chances of staying in Hell and Devil just laughed at me.”

“Really? He told me there’s a cozy little spot for me.”

“What? How come you get a spot?”

“I have no clue Mugs, I thought you were his favor…ite… oh I get it… He’s good.”

====-====-====-====

Henry looked at the thing holding the valve, hands completely free of Bendipe. He carefully reached for one of the boards the thing hid behind, snapped it off with minimal effort, all while maintaining eye contact.

It made the second, and last mistake it would ever make. It ran.

Henry _pursued._

He did pause to make fun of Sammy for needing to hire someone to put lyrics to the tunes considering how elitist he was about his music, then continued.

====-====-====-====

“I’ll be honest, I’ve been holding back with the kids here. I don’t know what they’ve seen, and I’m not keen on pissing off some toon aunt by scarring them. I’d like you to note that they are, in fact, not here. Now what do you think that means for you? Put the valve down or I’ll show you _exactly_ what I did in the trenches.”

The thing wiggled, clutching the valve.

Henry gave but a single nod of understanding.

That soul would be the second to ever truly escape the studio. Once again, because whatever the studio did to the soul wouldn’t _ever_ match up to what Henry did.

When Henry came back sans a pipe, coated in ink, neither brother questioned it, nor did they question the screams, wails, laughter, and the fact that the valve was a tad dented.

====-====-====-====

Returning upstairs, the group made for the office that had been their goal the whole time. Mockingly, the ink waterfall was no longer there.

Both children took a step away from Henry.

Ink covered the floor in patches in the office, splashed across in great arcing motions. Henry frowned, the ink pattern weren’t made by ink splashing down like the machine was a lactose intolerant person staring at the empty ice cream carton while awaiting the fallout. Following the lines, he finally spotted a pair of pants he was quite familiar with. Considering he’d seen those very pants on his good friend as they journeyed for revenge.

Laying in a pool of ink, torn in various places, with a broken mask dropped in a pile where a head would be if the person had curled up, tucking their head away in an attempt to shield themselves. Henry stared at the remains of his friend. All sound went mute, all thoughts ceased in his mind, everything froze.

====-====-====-====

Henry remembered years ago, when he used to descend on Sammy like a rabid squirrel, spewing out new ideas that needed sound to truly shine, dragging the taller man down by his suspenders to make sure he had Sammy’s full attention. Sammy took to sprinting for chairs the moment he saw that familiar burn of inspiration in Henry’s eyes in an effort to save his spine. But sure enough, after every rant, the skits would get their perfectly timed sound effects. The music would compliment the scene with such precision, it would leave crowds in stitches, and Henry beaming with appreciative glee.

Sammy was odd at times, but so was Henry. The two understood comedy, understood what elements made something comedic, or tense, or lighthearted. Sammy would even retaliate for those times, springing up from around the corner, instrument in hand.

“Listen here, Hamry.” He’d say, face straight as a pin, before jammig out so hard, the banjo strings would break on occasion. The violin bow would fray like crazy under his manic music, but the end result would have Henry damn near in tears, hand numb from writing down the numerous possibilities the music gave him for skits and scenes.

Sammy was more often than not, his partner in crime when it came to creating. Joey was his friend when it came to average antics, but Sammy was his go to in the studio.

Seeing the remains of him, clear signs of a fight, of a man desperate to defend himself when the realization of impending death became all too clear, made it impossible for Henry to do anything but stare. Take in the evidence of a battle, the blatantly familiar hand print he knew only one other ink creature could make, gouging into the wall, where the worst of the ink was.

====-====-====-====

Unheard by him, the children spoke.

“Cuphead?”

“Yes Mugman?”

“Can you call up retribution?”

“No.”

“Cuphead?”

“Yes Mugman?”

“Do you remember when I said we could never open _the box?_ ”

“Yes Mugman.”

“That still stands, but the vault? Crack that open dear brother, it’s time to get _creative_.”

The studio, had it been able to, would have hiked its lower floors up and run for the hills leaving that room alone.

The brothers waited for Henry to compose himself, though, whether the tears running down his face were of mourning or malignant rage, neither could truly tell. Neither really cared.

====-====-====-====

“You know, interestingly enough…” Henry paused, clearing his throat. “Down further, I remember there being another Sammy. But, not. The one down there, isn’t the Sammy I worked with. This is the Sammy I worked with. He’s the one who wrote all the songs.” Henry’s voice cracked, his knuckles went white, fists shaking. “I know that the things in this studio don’t stay dead. I don’t, every time I die, I come back. It’s awkward, a whole tunnel that pulses and is all kinds of gross, but I crawl through and pop back up in front of one of those shitty statues. So, if _I_ can come back, then Sammy can.”

The brother’s nodded, unsure, but patient. When a minute passed and nothing happened, Cuphead spoke.

“You know, we collect a lot when we travel. I’m sure we’ve got a chainsaw somewhere in here.”

Mugman was too busy sticking his upper half in his shadow, tossing things out, digging for various items.

“We got this vault,” Cuphead continued as time ticked on and the puddle of ink remained motionless. “Packed full of ideas on how to make someone regret every conceivable thing to regret. Elder Kettle had a lot of books and we were bored, on top of the other gods giving us all sorts of advice…” He paused, wondering if Henry needed more explaining or just more silence.

“I got a box. I dig into the box, and under the box, at the bottom, is the pit o’ pain.” Henry responded, holding Bendipe close to his chest. “Collaborations tend to craft up some truly grand, awe inspiring things though, care to try?”

“More than willing!” Mugman popped back up, drenched in water, but proudly holding a chain saw easily half his size.

Henry, down a friend, mourning in ways he hoped he wouldn’t have to after being honorably discharged, _grinned._

====-=====-====-====

Somewhere, in another universe, Devil and King Dice both perked their head’s up. Someone, somewhere, was about to suffer so spectacularly, Hell would add the things done to the soul to its _list._ The two shared a look, _nasty_ _smiles spreading wide._

“They grow up so _fast,_ don’t they?”

====-=====-=====-====

Jendy paced, well aware Henry’s route _always_ took him down the hall Jendy had been watching for a solid half hour. He knew the stairs were clear, and that those stairs were the only ones leading out. At least, that Henry could get to. But half an hour later and nothing, no Henry, no strange toons, no Bendy cutout, nothing. Not a single noise sounded in the quiet studio. None of the cutouts were working either, his vision through them entirely black. It was aggravating, frustrating, and terrifying all at once.

“Excuse me?”

Jendy locked up mid-step, neck cracking as he twisted his head to look at the tiny toon wearing blue. The toon, once sure he held Jendy’s attention, waved pleasantly. The smile was astoundingly sweet, and if Jendy ran his tongue across the back of his teeth quickly to check for spontaneous cavities, no one would be able to tell anyway. He was alone, a beacon of gold and white in a dingy studio, pristine, on-model, and radiating an innocence Jendy didn’t trust.

“Pardon, but would you happen to know the time?” The toon bashfully held up his wrists, showing the lack of watch. “I’m quite afraid I’ve missed a very important spot of time you see.” Jendy, not on fire, took a step closer, trying to figure out the catch. The toon didn’t move, continuing to give Jendy the cutest little smile he’d ever seen.

Jendy shook his head very slowly, one time, ink running through him faster as the anticipation built. He tried reaching for the cutouts again, receiving only a blanket ‘drown in agony Jendaroo’ response.

“Don’t worry Mugs, you didn’t miss it.”

Jendy whirled around, feeling ink bead on his forehead at the sight of the red toon standing at the end of the hall, leaning on what looked like a gatling gun if gatling guns were made of peppermint. The colorful paint was odd, striped red and white, not matching the vicious gleam on the weapon.

“Oh thank goodness! I was so worried!” Jendy turned again, very slowly, smile gone from his face.

“He looks confused, maybe he needs the time?” The red toon hefted the weapon up tapping the trigger rhythmically.

“Of course dear brother.” The blue toon, sparkles dotting the air behind him, eyes closed from how wide the smile was, responded.

“ _It’s murder time._ ”

The last thing Jendy heard before everything became endless screaming was the sound of a chainsaw revving. The last thing Jendy saw before Henry, appearing from the shadows, descended on him, was Death hiking up its robe and sprinting for cover, white flag billowing from Deaths’ hand.

And lo, Death did not come for Jendy that day, because Death was cowering in a corner like a little bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe Sammy's fuckin dead.
> 
> Golly gee, hope that isn't a trend or anything!


	9. Third times the charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a one of you can see it, but I'm laughing again. Is this story getting close to the end or is it just ramping up?  
> Who knows!
> 
> I do.

“Fella’s I gotta say I have no idea what to do from here. Normally Sammy’s the one leading me wherever it is I need to go next” Henry scratched the back of his head, uncaring of the ink smudging all over his hands. It wasn’t hard to not care either, not when every inch of him was covered in whatever Jendy was made of. The inky asshole had been spared only because the studio stepped in, dragging him away before they could test whether or not Jendy was capable of dying like Henry. Which was a damn shame considering Henry had been looking forward to rearranging organs.

With nothing else to really do, they just sort of stood in the main room. Cuphead was just as covered in ink as Henry, and much like Henry, he didn’t seem to care. Mugman had escaped most of the splatter, mostly because he didn’t participate in the beat down beyond keeping Jendy from escaping, much to the man’s horror. Bendipe was the most pristine out of all of them, which suited Henry just fine.

What also suited him fine was a cutout peeking out from a doorway, as if trying to get him to come check out that area. He took a step, and dropped through a puddle of ink.

===-===-===-====

Henry stared at the ceiling, determined to not move. Not even when a very confused Boris worked up the courage to approach him and the others. The other two toons, dropped all the same as him, were trying to get ink off themselves. Bendipe stood politely behind them, eyes twinkling when Cuphead began trying to get away from the wet cloth Mugman had been using to get ink off of Cuphead’s face.

“Stop squirming!” Mugman scolded, batting Cuphead’s hands away. “It’s not my fault you decided to rip whatever makes for an artery in that guy out!” He got one more swipe of the cloth before both were vanishing again into the shadows below them. Henry moved just enough to have Bendipe in his sights, then flopped out like a starfish and didn’t move.

“If I wake up and something has harmed Bendipe, I’ll do worse to you than what I did to Drew, are we clear?” Henry managed as exhaustion started to weigh on him. Boris hesitantly nodded, weakly whining as the cutout’s eyes shifted so it was clear that Henry wasn’t the one being watched.

As Henry snoozed, the kids returned, spotless of any ink and raring to go. While Boris and Cuphead carted Henry to a far more suitable spot to rest, Mugman followed, Bendipe tucked under his arm.

====-====-====-====

Henry woke up not in the same place he fell asleep. This was not abnormal, thus, he barely spared it a thought. That went to thoughts of where Bendipe and the kids were. Sitting up answered both of those. The toons were doodling away on paper spread out in front of them, Bendipe was propped up behind them, on the wall. Henry shifted, dropping his feet to the ground, leaning his elbows on his knees to get a closer look.

“Is that frog punching a blob?”

“Yeah, Ribby and Goopy get into a lot of fights.” Cuphead explained, and if Henry knew who he was talking about, he’d likely fully understand exactly what Cuphead had just said. Henry didn’t, so he just nodded.

“Why are you two in here? Pretty sure this place is a no-go zone for Jendaroo. Did you already explore every part of this place?”

“There’s a weird drawing Boris made glued on one of the walls out there. It looks like he made it out of a bunch of other drawings he cut up and stuck together, and it’s creepy. So we figured we’d stay with you.” Mugman answered, dropping the pen and standing. Cuphead stood with him, scrunching the papers together and stuffing them into the shadows. Henry, who couldn’t recall ever seeing such a thing, frowned. He trudged out of the little room, down the hall, and towards Boris. Ignoring the wolf for now, he moved past the stove to take in what made the kids decide hiding in a room was better than exploring the way they usually did.

“Bitch I know I’m not seeing pieces of my fuckin brain child on this collage of hell.”

Boris went from merrily whistling to frozen solid, a bead of ink dripping down his temple. Henry returned; steps deceptively light.

“Boris. Here is _exactly_ what is going to happen. I’m going to go to the exit. I’m going to open the exit. I’m going to leave. If anything, and I mean _anything_ tries to get me to do otherwise, it’ll be _you_ I come for. We clear?”

Boris, who had been leaning back, burst into a flurry of motion as Henry took deliberate steps towards the door that very obviously lacked any means of opening it. The boys watched, twin expressions of amusement on their devious faces. They knew exactly what had Boris freaking out, having been the first to notice the lack of lever. Neither had been sure why that was the case, until now. The banjo beside Boris hit the ground, knocked over by the wolf’s frantic actions. The studio shuddered, entirely terrified by Henry’s demented, stone faced glare directed at the door.

Boris launched himself at the wall beside the door just as Henry reached it, shoving the lever into the wall and throwing it. Henry waited for the kids to follow behind him before continuing, shooting one last dark glare at Boris.

====-====-====-====

“Henry? He’s following us.”

“As long as he doesn’t do anything… **unfortunate** … I don’t care.” Boris nervously stared down at Cuphead, who’d been staring up at him without turning his body. One of Cuphead’s hands was latched onto Mugman’s back, making sure the body wouldn’t trip or stumble as he did so. Mugman was content to let Cuphead act as a barrier between him and Boris, and listen to Henry’s decision. Golden eyes only flickered back once to Boris, and found nothing too offensive, so he saw no reason to deter another person from joining the group.

The little station Boris tried pointing out was odd though. Especially because he seemed to be trying to indicate that it was a safe spot to be. Henry laughed without smiling as soon as he got the message. He didn’t even bother stopping to open the miracle station’s door, walking ahead at a sedate pace. The whine for the flashlight was equally ignored. Especially when Mugman passed Bendipe to Henry, and lit his hands up with bright golden fire, easily chasing away the shadows obscuring the room. Boris followed, appeased by the fire. Even forgetting his nerves and powering on ahead, past Mugman who took the lead. Mugman let the fire crawl up his arms, lapping at porcelain, at the gold decorating thin limbs. Light flickered around them, soothing and warm. To Henry, the fire reminded him of times spent by a fireplace, relaxed and content as the sounds of life around him filled him with a cozy sense of peace. He found his anger dying, his shoulders and body loosening up, losing the tense line.

The various gears, the weak lights dotting the hall here or there, the curious exploration Cuphead did, being the only one not really needed at the moment and not the one leading the way, felt nice. Bendipe stared at whatever happened to be on the wall, sometimes glancing around if Henry wasn’t looking, still eagerly playing the little game he and the other cutouts had started all those rewinds ago.

The thud from above was treated like it hadn’t even happened. Henry staunchly ignoring anything that wasn’t the nice feeling spilling from the fire. Especially because he knew it wasn’t going to last.

He was proven right at the sight of a door, this time, one with no buttons.

“I swear here and now if I have to try finding a stupid button hidden in some bullshit corner, I’m just burning the place down and explaining myself to the others below later. Fuck it.” Henry spoke like one who’d made up their mind. One who’d toyed with various options for several painful minutes before settling on the one deemed best. The fact that he was pulling out a match didn’t make the studio feel any safer. Boris too, immediately went about moving his hands towards Henry in a ‘wait a moment’ motion. He pointed to the grate, pointed to himself, and started to turn.

“Oh sure, go for it Boris, just be careful. Sammy was murdered by Jendy up there. I sure hope he hasn’t recovered enough to come after you in there. Good luck buddy.” Yes, Henry was quite aware of what he was doing. He was equally aware that if Boris didn’t go into the vent, he would, and whatever popped out at him in there would not be long for this plane of existence. Boris whined, but removed the cover anyway, sparing a quick glance back at the other toons before heading into the depths of the walls. There was a thunk, a high-pitched whine, and Boris reappearing, nursing a comically scrunched up nose.

Mugman took pity, offering to head into the vent with him to provide light. It was only then that Henry realized Boris wanted the flashlight for himself, which meant he knew about this part, and hadn’t grabbed the thing when he’d had a chance. This also meant he’d hoped Henry would act as a pack mule and carry a bulky ass flashlight just because of this one vent. Though Cuphead was clearly displeased, Boris was less so, dolefully waiting for the far smaller toon to carefully ease his way inside, following behind after motioning for them to wait.

There were muffled words from inside, the golden light continuing to dance in the opening to the grate. Right up until the grate slammed closed, and a surprised shriek followed by an equally surprised bark burst from the vent. Cuphead immediately tried to rip the grate off, calling out for his brother. Henry delivered one swift kick to the door, nudging Cuphead away first. The grate dented heavily, bolts holding it in place cracking visibly.

“Boy, this place sure is bold today.” He spoke casually, but his eyes showed nothing but malice. As the metal door creaked open, he ignored it in favor of breaking out the wrench. He was about to remove the grate his own way when Cuphead stopped him.

“If he was still there, he’d have answered by now. Do you know where this thing lets off?” Cuphead tried to appear sure, but even if Henry hadn’t been looking at him, he would have heard the nervous shake in Cuphead’s voice. Seeing the toon only meant he could take in the rattling emanating from the child.  Henry shook his head.

“No, but this place has a habit of making me do menial things just to get further down. If anything, he’s somewhere up ahead with Boris. So at least he has a meat shield if he needs one.”

“Good, I don’t think my brother likes to fight. I’ve never seen him actually get into it whenever we’ve needed to.” Cuphead, reaching for something to distract himself, took the first thing that came to mind. Henry hummed.

“Pacifist?” He questioned as they headed through the door.

“No, I think he just likes watching people get stomped out by their own decisions. His Domain is the thing that usually acts up if someone gets by me and mine. Well that and the fire. Anyone who touches it that isn’t supposed to lights up like a star, it’s pretty fun. He’s real good at dodging too!” Cuphead seemed to puff up a bit at the end, something Henry found adorable. The hall split off for some unfathomable reason, considering it clearly led to the same room. A room Henry’s hazy memories latched onto for one specific reason.

“Actually, I’m fairly certain this is…” Henry drifted off the moment his eyes caught sight of the thing he knew would be there. Cuphead too, instantly noticed it as well, and broke off into a sprint, nimbly leaping over the fences in his way of the tantalizing target. He got some impressive height at the final leap, and landed solidly on top of the giant Bendy plush. A plume of dust burst from the fabric, doing nothing to deter the happy laughter spilling from Cuphead.

“This is so cool!” He cheered, already babbling about how excited Mugman would be once he saw it too. Henry took his time batting as much dust as he could from the plush, setting Bendipe down against the wall to keep him in his view as he did so. Cuphead helped him out eventually, flopping like a fish over the doll, dust raining down like snow. Eventually, once it was deemed clear as best as it could be, the shadows devoured it, and the two continued on. Cuphead told Henry it was a good sign fire wasn’t eating through any nearby walls, as that would be the best way to tell whether Mugman was in trouble or not.

“Well that and I don’t feel like going on a murder spree… He’s definitely fine, and is probably wrapping Boris around his finger. Weaponized cute is what we call it.” Cuphead trotted up the stairs, head held high. “Just hope he doesn’t turn its full force on you without sunglasses at the ready.” He made sure to pause at the Boris plush too, eventually deciding to take that as well as the slightly smaller Bendy plush sitting by it.

 Up the stairs, humming rang softly out, drifting from the various vents, keeping either person from truly knowing where it came from. Henry perked up, relieved beyond reason upon recognizing who’s voice that was.  If she was humming, she was safe. He just hoped she stayed that way.

“Who is this?” Cuphead held up another plush, trying find a poster that could point out what the little doll was supposed to represent.

“Alice Angel. I’m not certain what Joey intended her role to be. She could have been an antagonist to Bendy or a friend, considering Boris tended to take the antagonist role. But I wasn’t around long enough to see her creation. Pretty sure he was drafting her as I was being drafted to the war.” Henry took one as well, seeing if it squeaked, feeling a mite disappointed when it didn’t. He put it back on the shelf, and went about cleaning out the belts.

“I swear they design these rooms as inefficiently as they possibly can. I don’t think I’ve seen so much incompetent design since the war. And that had Big Gustav. Took over half an hour to load the damn thing, but it was assumed whatever was hit by one of the massive projectiles would cease to exist. It wasn’t ever used though, which is just hilarious all things considered. This is like that. It takes far longer than it should just to get anything done. Like, look at this!” He gestured to the little office, pausing his rant to listen to the toy creator rant himself about the dolls. He snorted towards the end, then continued.

“Look at it, this space is tucked behind where shelves move. That means this guy had to be aware of how far he was leaning back unless he wanted to be brained by a stupid shelf. Its impossibly stupid. There’s no reason for this, but here it is! And the gears! The belts and gears are right there for anyone to wait until its blocking the guy in to then stuff a toy into! That’s what I would do! I’d wait until he was back there and box him in with a shelf, just because I could.” Cuphead’s face had taken on a red tinge as he tried to bite back laughter at the overly dramatic rant. Henry threw a doll that was stuck in a roller behind him, nailing the wall to the side of Cuphead.

Grumbling, Henry kept the act up, taking great thudding steps along side the line leading back out. Cuphead paused behind him, resting a hand on his chin as he looked up at the massive Bendy.

“That part of the sign makes it look like Bendy has a halo.” He remarked as Henry flipped the switch on the wall. Henry looked up, arched a brow at the rather odd appearance of a halo floating above his devil darling. Then, he kicked up the flair _hard._

“Well of _course!_ Look at this sweet little darling!” He deftly showed off Bendipe, putting the cutout right in front of Cuphead as he continued. “He’s the sweetest, most devious little shit this side of animation the world ever did see! Why, I bet they took inspiration from him when creating Alice he’s so angelic!” Unseen by Henry, who was proudly puffing his chest up, chin held high with pride, Bendipe’s face had changed to bright laughter, mouth open in a happy grin, eyes closed to make room for the smile. Cuphead joined the cutout, laughing at Henry’s antics.

“I think we can turn the machine on now.” Cuphead got out between chuckles, nabbing Henry’s shirt tail as the adult strolled past like a peacock, strutting his stuff with Bendipe, whose face had returned to default, held upright beside him. Henry, brain immediately jumping to numerous jokes that could follow that statement, struggled greatly to keep his mouth shut, well aware Cuphead probably wouldn’t really get it. And with Sammy not at his side, there wasn’t anyone there to truly appreciate the joke beyond a cutout that couldn’t truly vocalize a response.

What he didn’t expect was for the shadow cast by Cuphead to gain golden slits of eyes and squint at him like it _knew_. He and Bendipe both blanked on how exactly to react to that. Taking it as a sign to just press on, he did as told. Pulling the lever, lamenting over losing the axe to Jendy’s teeth, and his pelvis…actually if he thought about it the final nail in the coffin for that axe had been the ankles. Still, if he was being honest, it wouldn’t have lasted through one swing if he’d tried to just cut his way through. It didn’t make it any easier to accept how it only moved one shelf space at a time. Cuphead, far more impatient than him, wound up slipping through the slim opening the moment it was available. Henry followed after, hazy memories screaming at him to hurry up.

The Alice theme kickstarted his brain, and he just barely yanked Cuphead behind Bendipe before the lights shut off. He carefully inched closer, trying to recall whether Alice was hostile from the get go. Then he wondered if she’d even spring up, and decided that hostile or not, he _really_ didn’t want the song to end without her appearing.

Granted, though she did indeed spring up, Henry wasted no time in throwing the wrench into the glass, breaking it before she could even fully take in how there was a Bendy cutout in the room that was frowning at her. She shrieked, staggering back from the shower of glass. Henry waited for her open her eyes, understand her prank hadn’t even started to work, and started in.

“Sammy is dead Alice. Jendy isn’t doing what he usually does. I know you’ve got the elevators, but—”

“Wait! Wait, you lost me, Sammy?” She struggled to follow him as the ink in her mind quieted down, whispering to her, urging her to listen to Henry. She didn’t recognize the voice, but it was far better than the screams, so for that reason, she did as requested.

“The worshipper upstairs. The one in the music department. That’s Sammy Lawrence. Listen, I know—sort of—that you’re about to put me on an absolutely stupid fetch quest hell. But before you do. Are you certain Jendy can’t get you?” He spoke quickly, worried she’d run off or ignore him in favor of continuing as she usually did. His heart grew heavy the longer she remained quiet, looking at him like one would at a pink elephant farting rainbows.

“I…yes?” Her voice was pitched high, but she wasn’t running away, looking between him and Bendipe. At least he hoped it was just Bendipe. He didn’t want to deal with her seeing Cuphead as well as Bendipe at the moment, not until he got her to understand things weren’t going on track at all.

“He tore Sammy to shreds. Alice, think _really_ hard. Are you entirely safe if you go back to that room or would you be better suited looking for somewhere else to hunker down?”

“Why not just come with you?” She asked, leaning to one side, crossing her arms nervously across her chest.

“You can if you want to, I just need to be able to get down to the fourteenth floor as fast as possible as long as you aren’t going to wind up a smear on the wall while I go for Norman.”

“Then it’ll have to wait. I have something to fix.”

“You were gonna drop the elevator with me in it weren’t you.”

“….We’ve done this before haven’t we.”

“Damn skippy.”

“…Yeah.” She rubbed her temple, grimacing as a headache started pressing on her. “I’ve still got the elevator locked down. Just keep going, I’m going to unlock it.” The vents above creaked, and she fell dead silent, looking like a deer in headlights. Henry cleared his throat quite calmly.

“You know,” He spoke loudly, voice resonating throughout the room. “I know many a way to turn a person into a pelt. We got quite thoughtful in the war don’tcha know? Ever wonder what an inky pelt would look like?” There was skittering, thudding, and frantic fleeing immediately following his statement. Henry still wasn’t certain that was enough, but if she couldn’t come with him, he wasn’t sure what else to do. She seemed to take note of that, and burst into a quick chuckle, leaning her chin on the back of her fingers haughtily.

“Henry, I’ve been staying alive far longer than you’ve been here. Give me some credit. I’m not nearly as bumbling as the others here. I’ll get that elevator going and get back to you safely.” She turned sharply on her heel, threw open the door, and was gone. The shutter slid open, granting them entrance to the next hallway even as the lock audibly sounded on the door Alice had gone through. Henry ignored it, giving Cuphead the all clear, plucking Bendipe up from the ground and hurrying along.

====-====-====-====

By now, Cuphead was visibly frazzled, listening for the slightest sign of his brother or Boris. His Domain whispered soothing words to him, but it was nothing to a brother who’d gained a fear of losing sight of his twin for too long. The last time he’d done so, Mugman had died to a spear. Before that, he’d traversed to a highly dangerous set of Isles and nearly killed numerous times. This place was not quite the Isles. It wasn’t nearly as frightening, not with Henry there. But all the same, his brother wasn’t at his side, and it was entirely well known that Mugman wasn’t as sturdy as Cuphead. Anything could happen and Cuphead would only know about it after his Domain started calling for blood.

If Jendy thought what he and Henry had done to him before was bad, he hadn’t seen _anything_ compared to what _would happen to him._ Bendipe would glance at him every once in a while, as if trying to soothe him. But without the ability to truly talk, there was no way for Bendipe to just _say_ what he was trying to convey. So instead, they went the path of the demon as usual, Henry hefting Cuphead up with ease on one arm, Bendipe tucked tight to his side on the other. The tapes, things that refused to stick to Henry’s memory no matter how often he’d likely played them, still found a way to amuse him.

“If there’s so much as a chip on my brother, no amount of belief will save him from me. I’ll make him _wish_ he could die.” Cuphead grumbled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, glaring at the tape. Henry nodded in full agreement. Though he wanted to draw a monocle on the giant Bendy face, time was of the essence. Henry barely paused to let Cuphead down again, pressing past the other cutout that seemed to have opened the door with a quick thanks. He and Cuphead took long strides down the hall. Well, he did, Cuphead jogged. Still, Cuphead didn’t seem to mind the fast pace in the least.

Before they opened the door, they heard soft words drift through the wood. Cuphead just about tore the door of its hinges the second he recognized the voice. Mugman didn’t even have a chance to speak before his brother was tackling him, hefting him into a tight hug. Boris put the cutout down, and for a moment Henry tried to figure out what Boris had meant to do with the cutout. If Boris had been hoping to spook him, Henry would gladly show Boris who was the scarier of them all. If Boris had been hoping to prank Henry, it would be the same outcome. No one out pranked Henry. _No one._

“I’m fine! Cuphead, you’re—oof!” Mugman squeaked as he was spun around by a far too happy sibling. Notably, he didn’t exactly fight the hug, nor did he really try to escape beyond a quick series of taps on Cuphead’s shoulder. At the sight of pristine porcelain, Cuphead released a sigh of relief, happy that his sibling was perfectly intact.

“After we find Henry’s friend, I got a neat thing to show you.” He pat Mugman’s shoulder, and the group made for the door. Boris offered a pipe to Henry who responded by holding up the wrench he’d picked back up after shattering the window.

“Your weapon is _weak_.” Henry hissed playfully, mood upbeat now that both children were visibly safe and happy. Boris stared into the void for a second, decided rolling with it was the only sane option, and followed behind them.

====-====-====-====

Behind the next door was a room that was jus about covered in ink. The children were quickly scooped up, Mugman by Boris and Cuphead by Henry as the duo strode through the room, Henry grimaced as the ink made the floor slick, wood soaked with ink groaning under his added weight. Though the kids likely would have been fine in ink barely up to Henry’s ankle, he wasn’t keen on risking them going into the ink should the studio decide that shenanigans would be funny. It dropped them through ink before, nothing was stopping it from doing the same again. For all he knew, that’s how Jendy followed them. No matter the case, the longer he could keep them out of the ink the better.

The fact that Mugman hadn’t even flinched when Boris plucked him up from the ground told him they’d done it too, where ever they’d been spirited away to. Cuphead and Mugman cheerfully chat away, filling the other in as best they could about the adventures they’d had.

Upon finding the lever, following the trail of wires with their eyes, and promptly cursing Joey out, Henry plopped Cuphead back down, heading down the hall after dropping Bendipe in Mugman’s arms. The boys glanced at Boris, who gave them a quick nod, and they trot after Henry. The statue stared off down the hall, carved smile stagnant.

"Ey! Puta Madre—"

There was a burst, a shout, the children dove back behind the wall to evade a splash of ink. The butcher gang member desperately tried to crawl away, a lone hand wiggling into the hallway before more angry cussing followed a bubbly shriek for mercy. Boris and the statue stared off into the void. The void turned a page of its newspaper, and ignored their silent pleas for sanity to be returned.

====-====-====-====

The group stood around the tape recorder as it played. Some desperately, blatantly ignoring how one of theirs was covered in ink and now had a new wrench in one hand dented to a full ninety degrees. The smile that curled up Henry’s lips upon hearing about explosions could not be ignored, simply from how demonic it was. Boris tried all the same. Bendipe just hoped he’d get to see a big boom.

====-====-====-====

“Feel familiar?” Henry stroked the side of the miracle station, rubbing his chin with one hand, intense stare burning into the station. “Mmmmm….” He squinted, frowning deeply, “It’s _wood,_ just as I suspected. No! Wait! Yes…. yes, I remember this!” He snapped his fingers, straightening up to his full height, startling Boris. “Feels just like the outhouse from that frat party Joey had me attend! Shit man, I can’t believe you want me remembering the time you tried pranking the jocks and got locked in one of these for an entire night. But hey! Power to ya Joey, power to ya.” From above there came a heavy groan of annoyed embarrassment. Boris squealed in horror, the brothers snickered, Bendipe smiled.

====-====-=====-====

Strolling back, actually taking the path they were supposed to, they finally came to the elevator. Hopping aboard, as Henry was getting nervous for Alice and Norman, the ones not aware the thing automatically closed doors, jumped as the grates slid shut.

“Henry?”

“Alice! Good to know you aren’t dead.” Henry spoke as the elevator began its descent.

“Good to know you pick up strays no matter how often they prove their lack of loyalty.”

“Boris is a wolf, not a dog, he doesn’t have that characteristic.”

“I’d worry for you if I didn’t know that was pointless. I’m taking you down to Norman first. I’m fortified, he isn’t. Do be careful, I was so looking forward to our date.”

Henry snorted, hoping she could hear the mirth in his brief burst of laughter.

“Inside joke.” He told the others who were visibly confused. The brothers nodded, taking his word for it. As each floor passed they made a game of trying to point out as many things on each floor as they could before they couldn’t see anything anymore. It made the atmosphere less tense, right up until Henry realized he didn’t have a plunger, and he cursed audibly.

“We’re going into this without a paddle and no Sammy.” He told them. And while those on board aside from the one made of cardboard didn’t understand, the one with the speaker system did.

“I’ll see about throwing a rope if I can, any tips?”

“Puns, horrible puns.”

“Joy. The one thing I didn’t pick up from Angel.”

“I believe in you Alice.” There was a groan, then silence.

====-====-====-====

When the elevator reached the floor where Norman tended to be, they could hear Alice once more, struggling to come up with puns to a very confused Projectionist who stood by the halls leading into the depths of the floor. Covered in ink as it was, there was no way the boys were going down, nor was Boris and Bendipe. Henry strode out, excited to see Norman alive and well, albeit not quite sane yet.

“I see a light at the end of the tunnel!” Henry called out. The light of the projector fell on him. “Hope I’m not projecting my thoughts too much! I just want to reel in another friend! I can rewind if needed though. I don’t want to shed light on the wrong screen!”

“Henry you son of a bitch.”

“Norman!”

“Thank everything, he stopped moving after the…you know, never mind. Norman, say anything and I’m dropping the elevator with you in it.”

Henry waved for Norman to head on up. As Norman sloshed through ink, he staggered, something catching his leg. The moment a familiar warped hand appeared, Henry didn’t hesitate, descending on Jendy as the man appeared out of the ink like a goliath bird eating spider, shrieking like a banshee, wielding spite in one hand, blazing wrath in the other. Jendy had but a moment to contemplate the horrors of life before he was body slammed into the ground.

Jendy, with the aid of the ink, managed to escape Henry’s crushing grip around his throat just before the screwdrivers had a chance to start digging out his eyes. He lunged for Norman again, then someone let out a quiet “ahem”. The lot of them froze, Jendy’s smile wavered as he slowly, _slowly_ looked up. Mugman sat perched prim and proper on the bannister. The light from Norman cast from below made him look more nightmarish than harmless, at least to Jendy.

“Hello, Jendy.” Mugman chirped, as his brother leaned with his head propped up by a hand on his chin, other arm tossed over the bannister lazily. A bead of ink dripped down Jendy’s temple. “Be a real shame if something were to spontaneously combust in this room. Wouldn’t it, brother?” Mugman continued, never once blinking luminescent golden eyes gazing down at Jendy.

“Oh of course dear brother! A terrible shame.” The barbarous grin sliding up Cuphead’s face was all it took for Jendy to bail into the ink.

“Weenie.” Cuphead grumbled, then the two burst into laughter.

“Henry? Why is copyright infringement sitting on that bannister?”

“Studio.”

“Ah… poor bastard must be desperate at this point.”

====-====-====-====

“Alice? Did you really need all this shit?”

“The stuff I send to find? No. I made it all up to see if I could get you killed. Well, that and to see if you could find a means of breaking us free.”

“Well, being fair, it has changed since the last time I was in here. Get us to your floor and we’ll all scrounge as a group.”

“Also, Henry? We’re talking about the outside help you somehow picked up.”

“That’s the same tone Aunt Bon Bon uses with Grim before she takes out one of his heads with her shot gun.”

“…”

“Shit I wish I knew what they were describing.”

====-====-====-====

The lift dropped them off, and they trudged on, ascending the stairs swiftly. The doors opened for them slowly, the moment they were open far enough, Boris sprint through. Henry and the rest weren’t sure why, but they weren’t all that worried. Norman took up the rear, light casting long shadows ahead of him. As memories of their antics trickled in, Norman spent more time focusing on that than how the shadows the boys cast varied. One cast a shadow deeper than the void, the other’s flickered as if cast by a flame instead of a steady bulb. Henry and Bendipe were getting used to the oddity, so they didn’t much care either.

The room they entered was both gross and odd at the same time. Boris standing in front of his own corpse weirded the children out more than the others. Henry flat out left Boris to it, well aware nothing was going to get the hound to move. Mugman did pause to ask something, to which Boris nodded sharply once. Mugman reached up, Boris leaned down, Boris got a nice quick scritch behind one ear, making his foot thump the floorboard rapidly, then they were off. Boris remained behind, staring at the corpse in front of him, at the ones around him, above him.

====-====-====-====

Alice was waiting behind the glass, leaning on the empty table. The first thing she focused on was the children. Norman was the one to deliver a swift kick to the glass, shattering it just before Alice opened her mouth. She hissed, shielding her head as glass rained down. Glaring at him, she hopped down.

“Who are you?” She asked the children, deciding to ignore Norman and Henry for now, she’d remembered enough of their antics to know they’d get to readjusting the elevator controls without her input. To no one’s surprise that was exactly what they did. Mugman waved, setting down Bendipe, but it was the brother in red who answered.

“I’m Cuphead, that’s Mugman. You’re heavy.”

“It’s called gravity kid, and spite.” She heard Henry suck in a breath, and quickly continued. “And having an ego so massive it requires a zip code!” Henry snapped his fingers, cursing under his breath. Alice pumped her fist in the air, glad to have won. The boys blinked at her, glanced at one another, then back at her.

“What’s a zip code?”

Alice groaned, slapping her forehead. She’d be more annoyed, but, surrounded by people she knew could hold their own, she was far less jittery, and the shaking of her hands that had been going on since seeing Henry and remembering him, finally settled down.

====-====-=====-====

“Boris?” Mugman called out, being the first to tread out into the big room as the rest followed, Cuphead close behind, Bendipe tucked under one of Mugman’s arms. When no wolf showed up or responded, Mugman frowned. He trotted across the boards, calling out again once he got back to the spot where Boris normally stood.

“Sometimes he’ll be at the elevator, we’ll check there.” Henry remarked, hoping to remove the worry from the child. It worked marginally, as Mugman immediately went for the hall back to the elevator. Of course, the moment they saw nothing but an empty elevator, Mugman’s frown returned.

“Boris is Joey’s creation, I doubt he’d be willing to do anything to Boris. The guy probably just scared him away.” Henry tried. Of course, that was right about the time a decapitated head splat to the ground by Mugman’s feet. They all stared at Boris’ head, then looked up, seeing nothing but an ink puddle.

“That could be any Boris, there were near about thirty back in that room.” Norman offered. Mugman blinked, hesitant, up until a little trinket he’d pulled from his shadow to give to Boris while they’d been exploring with one another dropped from above as well, the coin catching the light at his feet. Then Mugman was an inferno of golden fire, and everyone but Cuphead was scrambling back. Bendipe, unable to scramble back, just sort of stared ahead, visibly awed even to Henry. The fire slid across the floor, rising like a natural fire would as it devoured wood. Except the fire burned nothing but the ink, leaving pristine wood in its wake. Cuphead winced when a searcher popped up at the commotion, likely because Norman had stumbled back in that direction, and was immediately turned to nothing.

A minute after it appeared, it was gone again, and Mugman was smiling all cute like.

No one was fooled.

“Sorry.” He did not sound sorry.

No one called him out on it.

He turned on his heel, heading for the stairs, apparently starting the search. Though whether that was for any clues on how to break the loop or for a certain ink demon cowering in the ink, whispering ‘holy shit, holy shit, holy shit’ in the safety of a place he could actually vocalize such thoughts, no one knew. Well, Cuphead did, but he was just hanging back enough to whisper to the others.

“Oh, he’s a dead man.” He informed them quite plainly. Henry promptly asked if they had marshmallows in their shadows so he could roast them over Jendy’s corpse.

No one was surprised.

====-====-====-====

Every searcher that sprang up was immediately set alight. Normally, that would be horrifying to any other searcher if not for the fact that the searchers seemed to bubble out a thank you as the hold the studio had on them vanished, burned to ash. To souls that never had much of a connection, it was no surprise the ties binding them would be easily scorched away. Especially as the studio didn’t particularly care for measly souls that would be replaced the moment some random stranger strolled through the doors and fell to the many dangers. The group were mostly searching for any recorders, notes, messages, and anything else that might lend more to the story. They were quite disappointed to find a severe lack of notes. The recorders, popping up on rare occasions, didn’t boost their spirits.

Still, they had nothing better to do, and the boys would be upset if they missed a way to free Henry from what had to be the most boring prison in the world. Though they were just as eager to get out, dearly missing their world and fellow deities, they couldn’t bring themselves to abandon Henry. Both had already agreed, while Henry had slept, that should they get free without Henry, they’d pour everything they had into getting Devil to help them out, or Elder Kettle, or anyone that might have a means of helping break the spell on the studio.

Cuphead, in an effort to soothe his brother’s ruffled feathers, even a tad, was the one to remember something stashed away. He pulled one of the small plushies out, squeaking it by Mugman’s head. Mugman jolted, whirling around sharply.

“Cute right?” Cuphead started. Mugman put Bendipe down, the group fanned out in the room, keeping an eye on the children all the same. The brother in blue nodded, quite aware of what Cuphead was doing, but finding nothing wrong with it. “You know what’s even better?” From the shadow spread across the wall, the giant Bendy plush descended, flopping over on top of the startled child. They fell to the floor, the weight of the doll too heavy for Mugman to hold. After a moment of no movement—during which Cuphead worried the weight was too much and he was about to get set on fire by a very cross Domain—there was a happy squeal, and the plush shifted as the form below it hugged away.

“It’s so cute!”

“It don’t squeak though.” Cuphead responded to the muffled declaration.

“We’ll get Kahl on it.”

“He’s just gonna stuff a megaphone bat in there or something.”

“We’ll get Djimmi on it.”

====-====-====-====

Under one arm was Bendipe, quite pleased with his current spot by Mugman. On the other, the medium sized plush that squeaked with every step. Mugman, in a far better mood, let Norman punt the next searcher instead of just lighting it up. Even Alice got in on it at one point, winging a chair at one that got a spot to close to her. Henry found his moods perked up once more, and though there was no Sammy around to make it perfect, it was entirely better than having no one at all. Still, no Sammy did mess with the dynamic. He would normally have simply waved the searchers away, ushering them off to keep them from bothering the group. Without him, searchers had no problem springing up. Even if they immediately regret it.

It did mean they were slowed down, which would typically put a bit of a damper on Henry, usually eager to get to the lowest levels where the fun really started. Right now though, he was pretty happy to have the use of two hands, something the studio dearly regret. Every single machine he crossed, he rewired, worked, and twisted until it did things no one even knew it could. Every clock in the building on that floor clicked at the exact same time except exactly one. Every panel was pried open and gutted for anything useful for lower floors, leaving empty boxes behind.

This, as well as the banter that went along side the tampering, made for a happy Henry, an amused Alice, two thrilled twins, a pleased Projectionist, and a bright Bendipe. That, and there was a metric ton more soup added to the shadows. Alice even dropped in one they’d missed, watching the thing vanish with blatant curiosity. Any time they came across an ink filled hall, the plush would fall into the shadows, the boys would scamper up Norman who’d give exactly zero fucks about it, Alice would get a piggy back ride from Henry, and they’d trek across, chatting the whole way. Once over, the boys would go back down, Alice would as well, and they’d continue.

====-====-====-====

“Bold of Wally to assume I’d smile if he said this to me.”

“Bold of Wally to assume I’d give a shit.”

“Bold of either of you to assume he’d actually care.”

“Shut it Alsusie.”

====-====-====-====

“You know, they say the ink demon hears everything.”

“So if I eat Indian food, Mexican food, and a couple laxatives, come here with like, ten water bottles, start the machine, and get back to that toilet upstairs…”

“Henry please…please don’t.”

“The shame shitter just got a new purpose.”

====-====-====-====

“Hey, remember that time you had me collect gears?”

“I distinctly recall telling you to not die. To which you responded by throwing yourself down the elevator shaft.”

“Good times!”

====-====-====-====

Jendy stared off into the distance, perched atop a miracle station, listening as the group loudly sang what could only be sea shanties as far as he could tell. Sometimes they’d stomp or bang the walls on beat, making the pounding headache Jendy had only grow.

Never in his life did he think this would be how he’d spend his days. The studio, unable to sympathize, just tiredly sent another searcher at them, and had the building been able to, it would have wept as they took that time to surround it and wipe it from existence, all while clucking like chickens in-between calling for Jendy.

====-====-====-====

The butcher gang sprinted for their lives, about as well as they could, letting out bubbly shrieks of horror all the while. Alice hounded after them sounds akin to a velociraptor on the hunt spewing from her twisted mouth. Her legs, flashing under the muted light, allowed the ink splattered across it when one accidentally ran into her show. Death followed on her heels, hiking his robe up to keep up with the sheer force of her rage.

Briefly, she paused at an ink puddle, doing something none of them could see until she spun around and handed a plunger over to Henry. Henry promptly hugged her. Took the fleeing forms out with one solid throw of the new weapon, retrieved the weapon, and thanked her once more.

====-====-====-====

Now, Jendy might not be a genius, but he was fairly certain seeing a gaggle of cutouts all in a crowd, one with a very familiar mustache, meant ill things were about to occur. He was also aware he couldn’t go into the ink fast enough, there was just no way. So instead, he carefully pressed himself against a wall, and eased past.

 Behind the line of cutouts, including a couple Alice Angel ones, the group played cards they’d found in one of the desks. Jendy, just as he reached the end of the hall, heard something whistle in the air, and turned just in time for a plunger to nail him in the face, leaving him stumbling about as not a single cutout offered to give him its sight while his was marred by a _plunger_ of all things. Then he was on fire, and the plunger was the least of his concerns.

Cards were great, but watching Jendy flail like a moron until the studio once more carried him away, extinguishing the fire, was better.

====-====-====-====

Now, after searching as much as they could, and finding more searchers, the group ultimately decided going down was their only option. Nothing was appearing, and no clues were being given. Though they had spent a spot of time laughing and mocking whoever wrote “I don’t want to work here anymore” which helped to quell their disappointment.

Norman even got to show off his screech for the first time in front of the children when a crowd of searchers tried for them. He belted out his warped scream, Mugman jumped near to the ceiling, Cuphead shouted out what sounded like a curse based on the sharp note it had. Alice snickered at them, not even hiding her laughter at their reaction. The small group of searchers who’d decided to gang up on them reacted much the same, flinging themselves away, only to find themselves violently smashed against the wall by the Projectionist.

“Cool!” Both boys cheered after getting over the brief shock. Henry and Alice didn’t miss how their friend preened instantly after. They would have teased him, but even Alice had hummed a tune for them while on level 14 just to see stars show in their eyes. Much to their delight and her amusement. Bendipe watched it all, feeding it to the other cutouts.

Each cutout they passed had a warm smile on cold cardboard faces.

====-====-====-====

The elevator closed smoothly, descending for the lowest level after Henry dug into the panel, rewiring it to suit their needs. As it began to move, they relaxed. Norman played a reel Henry had managed to find during their search, so the toons happily watched the toons as best they could on the wall as it changed.

“Why does Boris always seem to win?”

“If that was Devil Boris was messing with, there wouldn’t be a Boris anymore.”

“Bendy is who’s supposed to be the winner, right?”

“Joey is a protective shit. Or he _was_.”

“Don’t worry Bendipe, if you ever get to come to our home, Auntie Bon Bon will gladly make enough cookies to get you fat.”

“Or feel ill at the very sight of sugar, either is possible!”

Just as Bendipe was debating breaking the default expression to show excitement, the elevator ground to a halt. The cartoon flickered off, replaced by straight light. Then, it began to ascend. Henry dove for the panel, whipping out tools faster than any could keep up with. Alice, hoping it was Sammy, since he was on the upper floors and she wasn’t quite ready to accept that he’d been killed, whistled a tune he and her did all the time before everything went to hell. Bendipe reached for the other cutouts as panic spread through them. The elevator rose faster than usual, gears above grinding as they strained to respond to the demand. The only response Alice got to her whistle was a deep, rumbling laugh none had heard _ever._ Henry kept at work, furiously rearranging the boxes innards. The elevator jolted now, going up, but dropping in tiny bursts, as conflicting signals rained down on it. Then, finally, the elevator froze entirely, no longer moving, stuck with half a room showing. There, posed quite confidently, laid Jendy, head resting on an elbow, body resting on its side. He waved to them; the elevator groaned.

When the sharp pop of metal breaking started above them, pinging like popcorn, Henry realized just why the other was so confident.

“Better hope I die here motherfucker. Better hope I keel over. You better pray to whatever unholy dipshit you got to do _this_ shit that I die here.” Henry hissed, and before Jendy could respond, the wires above, severed as they were, couldn’t support the weight of the elevator anymore, and it plummeted.

Mugman launched Bendipe into the shadows on the ceiling, the only one he’d go to being made of cardboard and far too light to not stay on the ground. None were, actually, the elevator dropped so fast they barely kept their feet on the ground. Norman’s light flickered wildly as he tried opening a portal. Alice shouted curses to Joey, descriptively explaining exactly how she’d rearrange his bone structure with a soup ladle.

Metal sparked, safety features shoddily placed in failed, and the rooms outside passed far too quickly for any to gauge just how low they were getting. There was a brief moment when it felt as if they’d reached peak speed, everything fell silent, and the shadow grew heavy.

The rooms outside no longer offered any light, and the shadows grew _heavier._

Norman’s light flickered out as he gave up trying to call up portals, not when they just never responded, and the shadows **eclipsed them.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jendy likes to think he gets the upper hand, but really, all this chapter made me want is for someone to write a story where Henry becomes a ghost and just loudly plays a ukelele while following Jendy everywhere, slam doors shut in his face, and move every piece of furniture exactly five inches to the left so Jendy keeps running into shit.
> 
> Let's be real here, there's some solid potential in that.


	10. Forthright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gonna tell y'all right now. If you thought the plot was about to wind down, may i direct your attention to the fact that the chapter count has not changed.   
> :)

When the group came to, it was in front of the totally wrecked elevator. Henry, rolling onto his side without moving anything else, squinted at Alice.

“Gee, that was real horrible wasn’t it. Real horrible. I would just hate to make someone else experience that.” Alice, slumped against one of the broken doors as she was, groaned and flopped over onto Norman. Norman who had his hand loosely resting on his abdomen as he stared up into the ceiling, light flickering on and off. Henry, brain making the unpleasant realization that no porcelain or cardboard was in sight, went from his side to standing tall to look around faster than a heartbeat. He found the children tucked into the corner beside a box, hidden behind Bendipe who laid on his side. Despite calling their names, neither one responded, but as they didn’t appear injured, Henry chose to move Bendipe so he could figure out how to carry them and his brain child. Ultimately, not wanting to be easy targets by having no fighter’s arms free, Norman was chosen to take point while Alice carried Bendipe and Henry carried the children.

It was a bit awkward when moving them their heads didn’t follow, and it came to Alice having to maneuver them in Henry’s arms so their heads could rest on their laps. It wasn’t great, but it was enough for them to move, which is what Henry wanted most of all. He had no doubts that Jendy was sneaking around waiting for them to show off whether they survived or not.

Henry couldn’t wait to show Jendy how big a mistake it was to not use the age-old double tap. With Norman to ensure not a soul approached them, they made their way down the hall, turned Grant’s office, and made a hasty barricade so they’d be relatively safe while the children rested. Henry figured it couldn’t have been easy moving a bunch of people through something that really only seemed content with collecting small things or moving the two children here or there, not two children, one cutout, and three adults. Alice was the one to settle down, letting them lean on her while the two heavy hitters chat away quietly about the many ways to skin an ink demon.

It was a bit unnerving how the two lively toons slept so still, shadows below them deeper than night. Alice dozed off at some point, Henry chose to rest his eyes, Norman kept his focus on the door, Bendipe kept his focus on everything, assuaging the worries of the other cutouts.

====-===-====-====

When Henry woke next, it was to a low hissing sound akin to the crocodiles he’d seen while in the war. The ink wavered across the walls, Bendipe’s eyes were pointed to the ceiling, and Norman was up on his feet, still as a statue, light off but turned to the door. Alice had lifted her back from the walls, avoiding the ink, but where the shadows pooled, the ink couldn’t touch, flickers of fire causing the ink to hiss and recede. The two children’s eyes were open, vivid gold, Cuphead’s eyes were bright and steady. Mugman’s flickered, yet never wavering from whatever conversation the two seemed to be having while tucked up to Alice’s sides.

Once the ink vanished, Alice let out a great sigh of relief. The toons sat up, giving her a quick thank you she returned by waving her hand lazily at them, trying not to appear like the thanks made her happy. Henry stretched, yawning wide enough for those in the room to hear his jaw crack. Norman, being made of ink, didn’t have to stretch, but he still did a few to ‘get the ink flowing’. Bendipe was picked up by Mugman so Henry could keep both hands free, and with a hasty barricade shift, they were ready and raring to go.

====-====-====-====

“Fucking inky assholes and their stupid jackassery. ‘Hey Jeffrey, you know what’s a good idea? Pissing off violent people by dickin’ with them!’ ‘genius Paul, real genius.’ Gonna find out who does this some day and use their spine to open the fucking door.”

“Auntie Bon Bon makes stock out of their spines.”

“We aren’t supposed to know that but she wrote down recipes.”

“Well that and we _see._ But that’s another option!”

“Shit that’s brilliant.”

====-====-====-====

They spun the wheel.

They opened the door to the archives.

They took a real good look at the archives from the door way.

They closed the door to the archives.

A heavy debate about approaching people so high off of fumes they were pretending to play red light green light with a statue being a good idea or not proceeded. The debate would last long enough for Jendy to get fed up and just move the ink creatures in the room, silently cursing out Henry the whole time.

====-====-====-====

“I’d ask where they went, but I don’t care. So I won’t.”

“I didn’t want to say it, but they were all posed like the statue was threatening them and they were pleading for their lives.”

“Or they were in awe of my amazing brain child, that’s an option Norman, ever consider it?”

“Please keep going, I don’t want to be sitting ducks while a homicidal moron wanders these halls.”

“He has super hearing Alice, he’s, at this moment in time, listening to us shit talk him. And my only hope is there’s nothing he can do to ignore us. Not if he wants to keep an eye on us.”

Bendipe, who was being very sure to broadcast their conversation into the ink as well as all other cutouts nearby. Jendy sat in the ink, staring off into the abyss.

“Well actually. Hey Joey. Joey Drew. Guess who didn’t fuckin’ die in the elevator Joey? Take a wild guess? Just any ol’ guess.”

Jendy buried his face in his knees, ranting into a sea of ink that awkwardly tried not to look at him while he raged.

====-====-====-====

Upon playing the tape, Alice let out an embarrassed shriek, and promptly broke the recorder over the table, bright blush blooming when the rest of the group just stared at her.

“We uh,” she paused to cough into a fist, pointedly looking at the table, away from the others. “We should move on. These ink fumes can’t be good for Mr. I still have human lungs over there.” She waved in Henry’s direction. Henry nodded sagely, deciding to give her this bit considering Norman’s tapes were equally funny yet odd to listen to. Besides, she’d said much weirder while antagonizing Henry, this wasn’t anything remotely close to the slug talk he somehow remembered despite not knowing what led up to it at all.

He also remembered how utterly stupid it was to have a book puzzle to open a giant door that sat out in the open with lights indicating how many books needed to be pulled out. There was no reason Henry or the others could fathom that would require making all the ingredients to a secret door, then forgetting the secret door bit at the end. The weird hallucination Henry was hit by did make the rest pick up their pace.

The moment the door open, Henry was being shoved through into a sea of fresh air. The cave before them was seemingly endless, going down into shadows that, at one point when it was just the ink beings and Henry looking down, blinked one golden eye at them. Norman flicked his light once in response, Alice pressed herself against the wall, Henry pretended he hadn’t seen that, Bendipe cheerfully listened to the two brother’s chat away, completely unaware of their shadow shenanigans.

“Shit. It knew I was going to say Joey turned into a kinky bitch.” Henry hissed, snapping his fingers in an ‘oh darn’ motion. Norman sighed, doing everything in his power to suppress the image of Joey in any form of environment that required cages, latex body-suits, whip like instruments, and chains. Alice contemplated bashing her skull into the rock until she went back into the ink. Ultimately deciding the ink was worse, she instead quickly went hurrying to catch up to the children.

The children who had found a machine, and being children, their first instinct of pulling the lever to see what happened led them to staring down at a coffee cup in visible confusion. Cuphead pulled the lever again, watching another ink blob form a second coffee cup, fascination gleaming in his eyes.

“Kahl has gotta see this thing.” He told his brother.

“I don’t think the world is ready for Kahl and Werner’s rendition of this machine. We can’t ever forget the pony incident brother; we swore we wouldn’t.”

“Shucks, you’re right…” Dejectedly Cuphead shuffled off, aiming for the hallway where safes lined the walls. Safes that Henry tore the doors off of.

“More things to swing and use as scrap. Never know when you’ll need metal down in this place!” He informed them, perked up far more now that clean air was clearing out his lungs. The group, even the new members, were not surprised. Norman and Cuphead even helped him collect the ones not quite open yet. Mugman and Alice turned their efforts to figuring out the giant pipe hissing away in a room that made little sense. One flip of another lever later, the group were staring at what Henry immediately called ‘Jendy’s Jacuzzi’.

“You are all now picturing him wearing swim trunks and flip flops. You won’t get that image out of your brains.”

“Henry you _fucker._ ”

“I think he’d wear ones with little pineapples.”

“ _Norman!”_

Of course, right that moment an ink creature popped up, giant ink bubble pulsing away on its shoulder. Mugman, who happened to be closest, shrieked, launched himself at his sibling, and was quickly backpedaled away by Cuphead, both toons green in coloration now. Bendipe snorted, though none heard it. Norman plucked the ink bubble off, the creature wailed, died, and the group fell silent. It was Alice who finally broke the silence, watching the thing pulse in Norman’s hand.

“Hey kids, want to see an inky angel projectile vomit?”

“No!”

“Oh for fucks sake get it into that stupid machine back there!”

“I feel sick.”

“It’s moving, Cuphead! Ew!”

====-====-====-====

Gear put in place, the group watched the rickety cart squeal over their way, metal grinding, fighting the first use of old gears and pulley systems in years. Norman port Alice over to the other side, already knowing there was no way the thing would hold his weight. He highly doubted it would hold Bendipe’s weight if he was being honest, but he wasn’t too sure how to get Henry through the ink void. The children too appeared to be deep in thought.

“We’re lighter, so if it won’t support us, it won’t support Henry, and we’ll just take him through our Domains.” Mugman ultimately decided. Cuphead nodded, and the two hopped onto the little cart. It groaned, wires shuddering, rust raining down much to their displeasure. Henry contemplated leaping onto it as well, but they were already on it, and he highly doubted it would hold his weight and theirs. So he resigned himself to waiting. It wasn’t like they didn’t have time, so he didn’t mind just leaning on the machine. Slowly but surely the machine chugged along, carrying them even more sluggishly to the other side. They were three quarters of the way there by the time Henry counted to thirty in his mind.

He didn’t mind it up until Jendy dropped down from above, picking Alice up by her waist and throwing her into the rock way behind him. Norman shrieked, dropping Bendipe in his haste to lunge for Jendy’s midsection. Henry immediately scaled up the support beams keeping the cart up, determined to risk tearing up his hands just to get at Jendy. Cuphead launched out of the cart, springing out and going to help Norman who fought to keep Jendy from wrapping hands around his head. Jendy used Norman’s body to knock Cuphead aside. Mugman, too focused on his sibling to keep an eye on his footing, hit the edge of the cart a bit too hard and barely had time to say ‘oh okay’ before he slipped away into the abyss below.

Jendy was forced to let go of Norman as a screwdriver embedded itself in his shoulder. Henry, murder in his eyes, took aim with the other screwdriver. He’d find more later, thus had no problem sacrificing some for the glory of vengeance. Jendy tore the other one out, lashing out at Norman with it. Norman only dodged when a portal ripped open below him, dropping him faster than Jendy could swing. Cuphead went for his knees. Only missing because Jendy was avoiding a board swung by Alice who’d finally gotten back to her senses.

Jendy stumbled back. A flash of movement above made him instinctively stick his arms out, whether to catch or defend, he himself wasn’t too sure. Not until he caught Mugman who fell from the shadows overhead, looking quite disoriented. The toon blinked at him, at the arms awkwardly keeping him from hitting the floor, at him again, and then, the cutest, most adorable vision Jendy had ever seen blinded him.

“Why thank you Mr. Jendy.” Later on, Jendy would realize the poison lingering just below the surface of those saccharine words. As is, he was too busy trying to blink away a field of sparkles, not that anyone could tell. Then Norman was hauling Mugman out of his stunned grip, and punting him off the side of the ledge as Henry flopped out of a shadow by Alice, having been dropped in one right when Mugman fell out of his.

Later on, while not hiding in the ink, Jendy would grumble angrily at having been distracted so efficiently. He’d been close enough to at least boot the cutout off the side of the ledge, instead he sat in the ink, nursing a bruised stomach.

====-====-====-====

“You did that on purpose.” Cuphead prodded at his brothers’ side while his brother perched on Norman’s arm, evidently content where he sat. Mugman waved his brothers hand away, pointedly not denying it, even losing the sweet, doe eyed expression he’d been wearing since the group had settled after the attack to send a wicked grin down at his brother. Bendipe, held in Alice’s arms, snickered. Alice was the only one close enough to think she heard something she shouldn’t. She wisely chose not to say anything; well aware she was still on thin ice with the cutout.

“He was getting too close to Bendipe, and it didn’t look like you were going to get to him in time. I just used what popped into my mind first!” Mugman shrugged lightly, voice lofty. Norman’s speaker crackled in the Projectionists way of suppressing a laugh. He continued to take up the back of the group, watching Henry lead the way, wrench in hand, Alice behind him with a piece of wood held tight in her grip. The stairs were just as shoddy as the little cart, but far more trusted by the group, though Cuphead did hop a ride on one of the chains moving up.

Henry would have, but he wanted to stay closer to the main group, afraid Jendy would spring back up and take advantage of the group if they separated too much like the cavern. As long as Mugman seemed content to let his brother roam, Henry figured he didn’t have to worry.

====-====-====-====

“He always finds me!”

“Maybe don’t speak so loud, jackass!”

“Just make it so he doesn’t want to come near you, have you tried seductively pole dancing when he comes around?”

“Henry there are kids here!”

“I’m trying to help a poor moron survive! Sacrifices are inevitable!”

“I just want to go home!”

“Oh nevermind, he’s a rude-ass motherfucker who’s selectively deaf and blind. Great. Ey buddy! Quit your bitchin. We all got problems!”

“Henry, just go through the door.”

====-====-====-====

“Ah, sorry Alice, no angels allowed.”

“That is discrimination. I feel discriminated against, and there’s no reason for this.”

“You liked to carve these people like a thanksgiving turkey.”

“Semantics. Step aside bitches! I’m Alice Angel, I don’t listen to anyone when they tell me I can’t do something unless it’s blatantly dangerous!”

The creatures rightfully shuffled away from her, some bubbling in distress. Thus they arrived at a new problem. Cuphead immediately glared at the grate, memoires of the previous grate clear as day in his mind. Henry squat down so he could try and see how far it went, using the flashlight sitting in the opening, deciding whether it was plausible to just hack their way to the next room. Turning to tell the others there wasn’t an end, he instead shrieked, flailed, and threw the flashlight in his hand at one of the many ink creatures that had surrounded them while they stood around the vent.

Norman screeched, they immediately threw themselves away from the group, and the group was left staring at the broken flashlight. Henry—with his eyes alone—dared any of them to say something about it. None did. Instead, Mugman’s arms were lit up in flames once more, Cuphead was giving off a high-pitched whine, and Norman and Alice were standing by the ink portal Norman called up.

“There’s no way for us to find where they appear if one of us doesn’t go with them Cuphead. You stay with them, I’ll stay with Henry.” Mugman soothed, already crawling into the vent. Cuphead’s hands went up, reaching for an argument as to why his brother should say. Not finding one, Mugman was right after all, he huffed, grabbed Norman’s hand, and let the bemused Projectionist and Angel lead him into the portal.

Henry thought to see about taking the lead in the vent, but there was no way for him to see, and when he tried to back up to crawl properly into the vent, the ink creatures once more surrounded him.

====-====-====-====

Outside the portal, now waiting patiently for Henry, the group listened to an all too familiar rage filled rant, ink filled screams, and loud, wet thwacks indicative of ink skulls meeting wood. Norman sighed, speaker crackling. Alice laughed under her breath. Cuphead snickered. Bendipe stared ahead, dutifully ‘reporting’ Henry and the group in all manner of locations Jendy couldn’t begin to follow.

The cutouts only wished the vent was quieter, well aware Jendy would find the two soon enough, but as long as he stayed away from the rest of the group, Henry could take care of himself, and the shadows whispered death threats to any that came close to Mugman.

====-====-====-====

Death threats weren’t effective if not backed up. So when Jendy slammed on the grate, appearing out of nowhere, he really should have expected to go from ink to bonfire, but he hadn’t. The tiny toon jumped hard enough to clang his handle on the vent roof, cracking it. Henry immediately slid further up, using ink-soaked trousers to facilitate a faster slide. Jendy stumbled back, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid a grate to the face courtesy of one solid donkey kick by a none too happy Henry. With a grate stuck to his face, fire searing away at every inch of his body, introducing him to a whole new level of pain, he only barely escaped the room before Henry threw himself out, intent on using Jendy’s head as a football.

The vent returned to uneventful, the fire soothed Henry’s numerous angry thoughts, resetting him enough that the

“Oh that poor fellow won’t ever get _ahead_ in life doing that” Mugman casually tossed out as they watched an ink creature bonk its head onto the wall brought a snort followed by a laugh out of the human.

There was no room to check on the cracked handle, and it was hard to tell whether the handle was healing like his leg had, but once they got out, it was the first thing Henry did. Cuphead, eyes flashing bright, angry gold, hissed along side his shadow as the cracked handle repaired itself rapidly. Mugman just shrugged it off, more pleased he got to turn Jendy into a lightshow, even if for a brief spot of time.

====-====-====-====

After painting the giant Bendy face with a goatee, slapping an eyepatch over one eye, Henry was content enough to let them all continue on. There was nothing really urging him to rush, so they weren’t.  If Henry wanted to doodle on the Bendy face while they all listened to some likely dead guy rant about how great he was, no one was keen on stopping him.

“Phantom Express is way better.” Cuphead remarked, peering up at the various drawings on the walls around them.

“That’s a train I’m going to guess.”

“Yeah! Hott ferries the dead! He’s real sweet too, likes to wave whenever he goes by.” Mugman reached for a piece of scratch paper to doodle on, letting Cuphead handle drawing the crew while he focused on the head of the train. The rest of the gang observed, giving hums and ooh’s and ahh’s as the boys described their fellow deity.

“His sister ain’t all that great…”

“You’re only saying that because she murdered me. She’s gotten much better and you know it.”

“I’m still bitter!”

“Well you two lost me. Excuse me as I go back down and figure out what the hell just opened up downstairs.”

“Did he just say murdered?”

“You can’t be a deity if you’re mortal.” Both brothers’ spoke at the same time, even if one had a sour expression on his little face while saying it. The shadows flickered around them, and they all decided to follow Alice down, not keen on letting any of the group wander too far.

====-====-====-====

“Bendy Hell…sounds about right. I’m stuck in it and if Jendy wasn’t a jackass I’d be enjoying it. Always gotta be a sour apple of the bunch to try and muck up any enjoyment you get from something you love.” Henry grumbled, squinting up at the sign. Alice coughed out an aborted laugh, keeping an eye on the two children who immediately darted off to explore the large room. Bendipe tucked under Mugman’s arm, she didn’t think they’d run into trouble they couldn’t handle, but Jendy was clearly growing bold…or desperate. She settled on desperate, well aware how frustrating it could be to lose every single time to someone who made it their goal to shove in the face how ineffective all plans made to ruin them were. She’d pity him if she wasn’t so livid that he truly had killed Sammy, and almost killed all of them.

Memories of the area ahead told her this was where she normally took up an antagonistic role, but there wasn’t a chance in hell she was leaving Henry’s side. Norman fought brutally, but he hadn’t been trained the way Henry had, simply unused to fighting against things that could actually hold their own against the Projectionist. If Sammy was around, she’d feel untouchable. There was no way Sammy would let Norman get taken down. Henry too, would fight hard, but he was still human, Sammy was ink, unable to truly get tired anymore. So if Sammy wasn’t there, she’d put her trust in the children below, at least mildly confident they could hold their own against Jendy.

At the very least, the blue child meant Bendipe wouldn’t ever come to risk of harm, which meant Henry could focus. She couldn’t recall a time when Henry hadn’t had Bendipe to take into account when he was gearing up to rip the spine out of Jendy. Jendy too, seemed to know this, as evidence by him attacking only when Henry was separated from them. If Cuphead hadn’t jumped in, they wouldn’t have Norman with them, and she doubted she’d be there either. So, as they descended the stairs, following the children, she put everything she had into forcing her memories deeper into the ink that made her up, hopeful they’d aid her in remembering faster next time.

She hoped Norman was doing the same.

====-====-====-====

“Wally! If you’re in here you better fucking hope I don’t find you!” Henry belt out, voice reverberating off the walls.

“A game Wally? Not just sticking the keys on a chain so they can’t lose them? Who the shit is going to come down this low to loot a dingy ass studio! There’s not even a reason for security!” Alice threw her arms up in frustration. The boys simply cheered, happy to have games to play.

Norman used his ire to fuel his strength when hitting the strength test, shattering the button, ruining the hammer’s handle, and cracking the hammer head.

“It helps if you just picture Joeys face on anything you have to hit.” He remarked, tossing the hammer aside.

“It _does_ distract you from the eerie whispers coming from the vents.”

“I dunno, it brings a sort of ambiance to the place, brightens up the room if you will.”

Cuphead brought out the Gatling gun to take down the targets, scaring the tar out of Alice.

“What? That one is broken!” He gestured to the wooden gun sitting on the bench in front of him, the one he was supposed to use. Alice narrowed her eyes at him, but, as it still worked, let it go. Mugman took out the bottles, sending them flying with quick flicks of his wrist.

====-====-====-====

“Research and design, oh! And a good ol’ fashioned cartoon hand with which to smack those who give terrible plans into the flaming ink fed pipe! Very nice.”

“Is that the butcher gang?”

“Hiya fellas!”

Terrified bubbled followed by the ‘fwoosh’ of the fire being fed something new was the only response.

“Interesting tactic, but effective, I’m not complaining!”

====-====-====-====

“Step aside fella’s I’m getting this freakin thing moving. Bertrum’s bout to learn what a true mechanic can do.”

“Cuphead?”

“Yes Mugman?”

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“So do I Mugman.”

====-====-=====-====

“It’s alive!”

“Wow Henry, you did it!”

The animatronic let out a demonic wail, picked the workbench up, and threw it at Norman.

“It’s angry!”

“My halo…son of a bitch almost _broke my halo!”_

“Don’t cry Mr. Ink monster. We’ll figure out how to free you all.”

“Please don’t set him on fire Mugs, that’ll probably just scare him more.”

The brothers ignored everything outside the cage as the animatronic was hefted above an enraged Alice’s head. She proceeded to slam it on the floor repeatedly, face a furious shade, rants pouring from her mouth. The ink creature sobbed, huddling closer to the little toon patting it on its back.

“Mother fu—”

“Alice no! I want to show it off to that bitch of life! It just needs a tender hand!”

“Our only tender hand is currently dealing with a weenie in a cage! Tender went out the window when it nearly broke my halo!”

Bendipe, leaning against the wall by the ink creature, watched it all, gleefully enjoying the show.

====-====-====-====

Henry stared up at the ride, taking it in, not a word escaping his mouth. Alice stayed towards the back, sensing trouble. Bendipe sat next to her, with Norman between her and the rest of the room, likely to act as a barrier in case anything went wonky during the wake up. The two children, told they couldn’t come out until the thing was active, stayed either near Bendipe in Mugman’s case or near Norman in Cuphead’s case. The animatronic glanced back at Mugman, got the worlds sweetest smile, turned back to the machine, and watched Henry turn the tape on.

Not a single one of them doubted the shaking from Henry’s shoulders wasn’t from suppressed laughter as the tape went on. Then, once the machine showed its face, Henry immediately went into action.

“Hey! Bitch of life! See something familiar?” The machine took in the other machine, screeched, and threw the carts around. Henry gleefully dove for cover, the animatronic skittered away from the main arena, Norman screeched, Cuphead happily pulled the Gatling gun back out, and war began in one tiny room.

As the fight went on, Alice remained leaning against the wall. Mugman stepped closer to the fight, eyes trained on the three wreaking havoc on the thing as it desperately tried to fight a losing battle. As such, it wasn’t a stretch to believe that when the ink started to writhe beneath Alice, he didn’t see it. Alice, paralyzed by unmitigated horror couldn’t find her voice as Jendy slowly loomed out her, emerging from the wall, dark grin on his face.

“I can see inside, you know.”

The two froze, Alice, fighting tears struggling to fall down her face, whimpered. Jendy snapped his attention to the child who looked back at him, eyes flickering gold.

“There’s not just one soul in there, Mr. Drew, you aren’t the only one in control, are you?” Mugman didn’t move as a piece of cart sailed by, smashing into the wall beside Jendy’s head. Jendy, much like Alice, was far too paralyzed by the surprisingly neutral, yet soft, look the other wore.

“Surely, you’re tired of losing all the time, this can’t be very fun, can it?” Mugman tilted his head, a beacon of calm in a hectic room. Jendy remained frozen, fighting to decide how to respond. “There must be a better use of your time here. Perhaps you could be figuring out a way to free everyone? It’s obvious whatever plan you had for this place isn’t ever going to work. There’s no point in continuing to throw things you know won’t work at Henry.”

Jendy’s hands twitched, Alice felt a whine build up in her chest, legs shaking so badly there wasn’t any way she could step further from the distracted creature.

“Leave Ms. Alice alone. It will only fuel Henry’s rage, and I _know_ you’ve dealt with that before and don’t want a repeat.” Alice finally found the strength to fall to the side, letting gravity pull her away faster than she could move herself, quickly crab walking backwards away from the demon. Jendy continued to stare at the brother in blue, body still as a statue. Right until the animatronic clanked into view, spotted him, gave off a loud screech that overpowered even Norman’s, and tried to charge Jendy. Jendy’s attention turned to it, frown growing deeper at the startled cry Mugman let out as it brushed past him, almost hitting Bendipe who hadn’t exactly been able to move away for obvious reasons.

As Mugman rushed to protect Bendipe, calling out for Cuphead within one breath and shouting for the animatronic to calm down in another, it swung a hand at Jendy. Jendy grabbed it, tightening his grip until the arm shattered. Baring wickedly sharp teeth, Jendy wrapped his free hand around its neck, dragging it into the ink just in time to avoid a heavy rain of bullets.

“Mugman!”

“I’m fine! So is Bendipe! Alice?”

“I’m fine.” Alice’s voice cracked, she was still too emotional at her near death experience to properly raise her voice, so she didn’t even try to talk after that. Behind them, Bertrum let off a dying scream, and if it sounded more relieved, no one questioned it. Not when Henry emerged from within, wires of all sorts shredded in his hands. Right around the midway point, the thing had gone from regular spinning to cringing and swinging its arms around in the opposite direction. The other two fighting had merely taken it as a change in the game, adapting quickly.

“What I miss?” Henry asked, helping Alice up. She rested her weight on him, shuddering hard enough there was no way for him to miss it.

“We lost the animatronic.” Cuphead answered, still looking over Mugman for any signs of injury.

“Well damn, I was looking forward to seeing if it could do anything other than tap dance down hallways.”

“While that was creative, it was also more weird than intimidating.”

“Indeed, Norman.”

“I’ve decided I’m going to take a more active role in these fights.” Alice shoved out through a wobbly voice, straightening up out of sheer force of will. Henry patiently let her regain her composure, acting as a wall for her to take stability from while taking in the ink on the wall beside Bendipe, where Alice had been. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had gone down. At least the gist of it. He wasn’t sure what got the animatronic to attack, nor what got Jendy to spare Alice if he had her right in his line of fire. Whatever the blue child had said must have been enough he assumed. He chose to be happier that the trio were safe. Even getting a chuckle out as Cuphead scolded his brother.

====-====-====-====

Excitement aside, they still needed to press on. The horror house needed power, and Henry was eager to find out where the other Alice and Tom were. They had never been high on his priority list simply because he knew they showed off how great they were at surviving Jendy’s wandering ways. If it turned out to be false, they’d just be added to his list of people to avenge. Not high on the list, but added all the same.

What took precedence over them was the fact that he had just been reminded that there was an actual fucking train in the building, sitting in a pool of ink. Not just any train, but a coal burning steam train. One that, if turned on, would choke anyone and everyone with the fumes within minutes. Henry wasn’t all that sure Joey had thought things through here, but on the other hand, he wasn’t sure if the train was Joey or Bertrum, either way, they strolled into the place with ‘choo choo’ slapped all over the walls for some unfathomable reason. Henry was more pissed the thing was in maintenance while the animatronic had been tucked away into research and design despite being built for the most part.

“Buddy Boris railways? That’s right kiddies, ride away on the asshole wolf’s big-ass steam engine. Breathe deep kids and you too can experience black lung! Just like in the good ol’ days!”

“I mean we all know Boris would hit the brakes just to watch kids not obeying the whole ‘keep your hands, arms, feet, and legs, inside the ride at all times’ rule. He’d keep a daily count.” Norman added, heading for the stairs. The two siblings eagerly hopped onto his back or into his arms, immediately scampering onto the trains sitting in the ink pool.

Henry stayed near Alice by the stairs, waiting for them, letting Bendipe stay beside him as the sounds of happy toons finding ways to break into trains so they could see if there was a whistle. Even the sound of Joey Drew being a raging bag of dicks did little to ruin the happy atmosphere. At least until Alice screamed, leaping across the floor to get onto as high a point as she could on the little miracle station as ink coiled and curled across the room. Henry turned, not fast enough to dodge the hand wrapping around his throat. Behind him he could hear Norman shrieking, sloshing through ink to try and get back to Henry. But, being Henry, and having no children in any vicinity where they could hopefully hear him, he did as he always did.

“C-Choke me harder, daddy.”

Jendy dropped him like he was on fire, rubbing his hand on the wall, looking at Henry in what could only be horror. Henry proceeded to break out the wrench and lunge for the knees.

====-====-====-====

In another world, a certain Goddess of hearth and home shot up, messy hair swaying with her abrupt motion.

“Someone, somewhere, just said something filthy in the presence of my children.” She hissed, fire burning bright in her eyes.

“Great. Least we know they’re alive.” Cagney grumbled, antsy fingers tapping a nonsensical rhythm in the dirt of Inkwell Isles. “Got anything Kettle?”

“Bitch does it look like I do?! And where are the holly berries I asked for!” Cagney hissed, vine dropping the requested berries into a near manic god of wisdom and magic’s hand.

“Isn’t there anything else we can do besides sit around?” Rumor paced, heels clicking the same rhythm Cagney’s fingers still tapped out.

“Look sis, I already have Inkwell working on whatever the hell it does, and Devil has Hell doing the same. Aside from doing whatever the only other Domain that has any damn clue what to look for, no.”

“Oh those poor children.” Bon Bon pressed a hand to her cheek, deeply wishing she had spared a few of the cultists so she had some form of stress relief in mauling those that sent her sweet nephews away. Below her, below them all, Inkwell and Hell continued to scour the traces of magic, reaching for the familiar lines that connected the children to not only them, but the world itself. King Dice tossed a pair of die in his hands, humming a soothing tune along side the radio as Devil paced, unhappy that Hell was unhappy.

====-====-====-====

Jendy barely managed to kick Henry away into the Projectionist, avoid a thrown wrench he had no idea Alice even had nor where she’d found it, and get back to the portal. Mostly because the shrill whistle of a train caused everyone’s shoulders up to their ears.

Before Cuphead could hop down into the ink, far too impatient to stay stranded on the train for long, Norman appeared, catching him just a scant breath from the dark surface. The light narrowed at him, leaving him feeling a tad chastised, much to his brother’s amusement. Carried safely across the ink, switch properly activated, they made their way back to the main room, hoping to get out of the area that no longer held their interest.

The boys sat in the little car, Alice carried Bendipe, and the other two hashed out a hasty plan for whatever happened to lurk in the big room ahead. The horror house got giggles out of the boys, both having seen far worse in their lives to be affected by frankly adorable little pop ups. That didn’t stop them from whispering about getting Beppi or Sally in on making a better one, one that was actually scary. The chatting stopped when they reached the large room. Henry took to scaling the wall above the other entrance, Norman shut his light off, waiting by the side of the doors. The boys vacated the car but did put a sack into their seat. Alice kept ahold of Bendipe, keeping close to a pile of boxes she ascended before the car hit the door, watching it creak open and bracing like the rest.

She and Norman clearly remembered, thanks to their minds being connected to the ink, that Boris usually threw the cart out. If it wasn’t Norman or Sammy lurking in the seat waiting for things to get punch-happy. But Alice hadn’t done anything to a Boris, there was no way he could.

Indeed it wasn’t Boris.

It was Tom.

They watched the cart go sailing through the air, shattering into pieces against the wall. Far harder than Boris had ever done, Tom stormed out of the shadows, ink roiling across his warped body. Allison staggered out behind him, ink pouring down her chest from her missing jaw. The butcher gang joined them, looking stronger than before. They seemed confused by the presence of unfamiliar toons, from the adorable smile and wave given by one, to the knowing grin given by the other. That one left them even more out of the loop right up until he pulled a candy cane looking Gatling gun out. Henry descended on the closest butcher gang member, Alice told Bendipe to stay where she put him, throwing her own weight into the fight, and Norman shrieked, aiming for Tom.

The butcher gang member that chose to go after the easiest looking target was lit up in an inferno of fire, the child dancing out of his reach gracefully. The other opened fire on it now that it wasn’t close enough to the rest to use the other friendly toons as shields. Still, as searchers joined in, Mugman continued to brush through them, leaving a trail of scorched ink in his wake and a sibling cackling away. Cuphead was well aware he had other options for the fight, he’d yet to use his shot, but it was dangerous to use the thing if he wasn’t sure the target wouldn’t affect the other ink creatures like Alice. She had mentioned they were all connected in the ink, so he didn’t want to risk her or Norman or Sammy, whoever he was, suffering under retribution. The Gatling gun suit his needs just fine anyway.

Norman may not have been quite as bulky as Tom, but he was more than capable of using past memories of fights to aid his body in moving away from blows he wouldn’t have been able to fifteen or so rewinds ago. He kept the other occupied, allowing Henry to focus on the two butcher gang members. As one of the members heads went sailing by him and Tom, he corrected himself to one. The red child was sweeping the arena of all searchers, keeping everyone from being overrun. The blue child kept the focus of lesser enemies on him, getting close enough to tempt them to take a swing only to learn fire was a thing.

Alice could cry she was so proud that her memories were kicking in. She dodged the numerous stabs, jabs, and swipes. Using a pipe she acquired while they’d been returning to the horror house to knock the sword from Allison, she tried talking, seeing if there was still another Alice lurking within the other, one willing and strong enough to fight the ink’s horrid whispers. Allison only continued to attack, thick ink tears dripping, rolling down her shredded cheeks. When Alice drove the sword she kicked up into her hand from the floor into Allison’s chest, she only felt bitter. Allision whimpered, clinging to her arms as her legs began to give out. Form destabilizing, Allison melted, eyes full of relief. The sword clattered to the floor, splashing in the ink.

Tom howled, powerful voice making all the others wince, shoulders hiking up. Norman returned it with a shriek of his own, having enough of their fight. He wasn’t going to lose his title as second strongest ink being to the likes of Tom. He grabbed Toms arm the next time it swept out at him, planting his heels into the ground and hauling Tom into the air. Smashing the hound into the ground, he spared just a second to take the angry, betrayed, pained misery in Tom’s face, then drove his fist down into Tom’s throat. He tore the hound apart, viciously removing the wolf’s head. To a degree it was out of pity for Tom, but Norman wasn’t nearly as kind or forgiving as Sammy might have been, so the rest was more for revenge for the many times Tom aggressively tried intimidating them.

Henry was charging after the stragglers. Some part of him had been afraid Jendy would call up another Sammy to come after them instead of Boris. It was better he hadn’t. Henry would have been blisteringly infuriated rather than irritated as he was now. Though, he wasn’t even sure it was Jendy. Alice might have had a point about the ink devouring their sanity. For all he knew, the two had lost it at some point and this was the end result. Whatever the reason, the butcher gang, though stronger, were no match for Henry with two free hands. Bendipe found himself in Mugman’s hands at some point, the two toon brothers relaxing, Gatling gun roaring out hellfire every so often when a searcher decided it wanted a warriors death.

The fight ended with a group both angry and relieved for reasons that varied across the board. Alice, glad she still remembered where the safehouse was, was the one to start for the door, soundlessly leaving the sword behind but not stepping into the puddle that was a former fellow Alice. Norman followed behind her, light piercing the darkness of the tunnel ahead. Henry took up the rear, the children sandwiched between him and Norman. Bendipe looked on into the shadows.

The shadows stared back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weaponized cute, something even ink demons can't resist. Mugman is, at least in this universe and Corruption, is the peace offering. He's the one who offers those a chance to repent before his brother can ultimately decide to just ruin them If the person takes the chance to take that peace offering, Cuphead will guaranteed be far nicer in cleansing them. His Domain is less bitey mostly. If you've read Corruption, you know denying the olive branch is a horrible idea that gets your ass beat hardcore.
> 
> He's also a manipulative little shit who knows exactly what to do to best lead someone or something into an inevitable path of pain should he and his Domain judge them to be irredeemable fuckwits.


	11. Ready, steady, go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :) :) :) :)

The walk to the safehouse was mostly to find a spot for the human to nap. As such, it was quiet enough that Norman let some tunes play through his speaker, and that filled the silence. Alice would hum along if the tune was easy enough to catch, but ultimately no one really spoke. Whether that was because they didn’t want to attract much attention or weren’t all too happy knowing more had been taken down by Jendy before they ever should have. It wasn’t the norm, not that Henry had been letting there be a “norm”, even so, it was offputting to know Jendy was finally taking advantage of his ability to break from script.

Henry was far too tired to try and lift any spirits let alone crack a joke or two. He had no idea how the toons that were on model walked with such pep in their step. They’d been just as active as he had yet only once for a brief hour or so did they need to sleep. He wondered if it was just a kid thing, remembering the time he came to his aunts house and found her kids swinging from the rafters. They’d been in their twenties, but she’d just waved it off, telling him they were testing the human ability to mimic animals and bats were the current species. One of them even had an extending fork to snatch pieces of fruit despite the other siblings loudly stating fruit bats didn’t have elongated tongues so the fork was anatomically incorrect. It was a fun visit to say the least.

This was proving far less so, and the moment they found the safehouse, door hanging off hinges, ink splashed everywhere in clear signs of a fight, Henry only liked it less. Still, he was _exhausted_ and staying up any longer was bad. The two little toons immediately ushered him over to the comfy bed sitting in the corner by the aquarium, assured him they’d help watch the house and fix it up while he slept, and before he knew it he was out.

====-====-====-=====

The children got to work instantly after Henry fell asleep. Mugman placed Bendipe down by him, telling the cutout to watch Henry for them. Bendipe nodded, got blindsided by a sugary smile, and was left to keep an eye on dear ol’ pa. Norman helped the two reattach the door, bolstering it with stray pieces of wood. Mugman burned the ink out of the room, quite positive it had a hand in Jendy’s ability to find them constantly.  Cuphead got distracted by the aquarium a few times, but that was only after the door had gone from squeaky mess to ‘bank vaults ain’t got _shit_ on me’.  Once done, Norman was shoved at one of the other cots, Alice being the last ushered to get some rest.

Not ones to look gift horses in the mouth, they indeed took that time to just _rest._ While they may not have slept, they did turn off as many senses as they could, trusting the children to alert them should anything go amiss. It would be a few hours later that they’d have enough of that, Norman quietly muttering about cricks in the neck, Alice using the rediscovered mirror to find all new things to hate about her bed head.

“I think it’s great, you can be all dainty and sweet and then turn your head and surprise! It’d make for some fun moments I bet! Cala Maria does it all the time.” Cuphead told her with a shrug. If Alice was a bit perked up at the idea of getting someone tripped up, even using her stance to hide a tommy gun and lay into them before they had a chance to show disgust many a hobo had, she didn’t show it. Everyone in the room still knew it, but she _didn’t show it,_ really. The two ink beings regaled the toons with various stories, finding pride in making it so Mugman outright took his head off to muffle his laughter in his abdomen. Cuphead just stuffed part of his outfit into his mouth, glancing at Henry’s part of the room to be sure none of them were bothering the man.

At one point the two siblings got into a play scuffle, which ended up outside the safehouse. Where the rest by the door were treated to a host of noises akin to someone with a flame thrower and firehose going toe to toe all while riding around on rocket-propelled skates based on how the sounds came and went so rapidly. Though that wasn’t what woke Henry up.

What got him up was the ‘there’s fuckery afoot’ sense that tingled. It hadn’t gone away after the war, and it was only going stronger thanks to studio shenanigans. He shot up, immediately going for Bendipe even as a portal snapped open and Jendy emerged. Norman was the first to react, shrieking viciously. Whether that was to call the toons outside back in or to inform Jendy he was in for a beatdown, Henry struggled to care to figure out. What mattered was that barely a second after that, shadows bent above him and Cuphead was latched onto Jendy’s head, as if he was trying to tear it off. Mugman was slipping out of the shadows by Henry, taking Bendipe from him so he could join the brawl. Something he did with gusto.

Jendy threw Cuphead off, annoyed when the toon cheekily sent a wave, vanishing into the shadows rather than shattering against the wall or floor. Then Norman was on him and he couldn’t focus on anything else. Then Henry was on him and he seriously regret not being sneakier. Alice bashed his face in with her shoe at one point, and it was right about when Jendy just about had his arm ripped off that he decided it was a tad unfair. The moment he got a decent enough grip on Norman, he hauled the man up into the air, knocking him into Cuphead and into a portal opened up to wherever the Studio decided to drop them. Alice was next, kicked into a portal followed by Henry.

He wasn’t all too sure how to take the way Henry didn’t so much as glare at him as _stare_ as they went through. Before he could focus on that however, he remembered there was one more, two if he really wanted to consider the traitorous cutout. Mugman immediately put himself between Jendy and Bendipe. While not outright hostile, it was unnerving how piercing those gold eyes were. Jendy and Mugman observed one another. Ultimately, much to Jendy’s own confusion, he chose to leave instead of attack the toon or the cutout. Part of him claimed it was because the kid wasn’t his main goal, Henry was. Another part remembered just how adorable the toon could be, and age old weaknesses to cute things, including devil darlings, and stayed his hand. So, frowning, he sank into the ink, wondering just what to do next.

====-====-====-=====

Mugman picked Bendipe up, heaving out a sigh, shoulders drooped.

“Such a rude fellow, isn’t he?” He tossed to Bendipe, listening to the response with an aggravated frown.  “Hm? No, Norman is with Cuphead most likely, he’ll be safe. It’s Henry and Alice I’m more worried about. Would you know where they are?” He opened the door, following the tunnel further in.

When a searcher sprang up from the ink, it was immediately set alight, and Mugman continued on, even telling Bendipe about the time his brother had tried pranking Auntie Bon Bon by adding salt to a pie instead. Bendipe, well aware how little the one he was with liked fighting, enlisted the help of the one deep in the ink, and creatures that usually sprang up avoided them like the plague. Mugman continued to regale him with all manner of tales, eyes sparkling with mirth, smile chipper despite the situation.

====-====-====-====

“You think he can drown?” Cuphead asked, vitriol dripping from his voice as he dangled from a pipe on the ceiling. Norman shrugged, unsure whether it was possible, but… “We’ll have to test that when we get to him again. If we get a barrel full of bacon soup that could work.” The tall ink creature carefully freed the child, plopping him down so they could look around where they’d been dropped off. Norman knew it was low, likely still on the same floor as the others. The studio had never really been good at thinking on the fly and Norman had just barely managed to wrangle control before the portal that spat them out did so.

He and Cuphead went silent briefly, trying to listen to any familiar voices and only getting a searcher wobbling its way across the hall before them. It spot Normans light, ink dripped like sweat from its head, and it promptly wiggled as fast as possible away from them. The two didn’t follow after it. Trying to decide where to go first.

“Mugs can find me anytime he wants, and I can take you back to him too. He knows it, and I know it, so my guess is Henry should be who we try and find first. If he isn’t with Mugman still… Is he?” He asked the nearest cutout. It shook its head, pie-cut eyes angled to peer down the hall to their right. Thanking it, Cuphead trudged on ahead. Norman briefly despaired at the knowledge the cutouts were far from cardboard. A good thought or three later he decided it wasn’t nearly the worst thing to realize, and followed.

Oddly enough, more searchers seemed to wander around their area. Though it was easy to rip them apart, it did mean they were slowed considerably. Still, as long as Cuphead didn’t looked overly concerned, Norman wouldn’t be too concerned either. Besides, it was Henry. If anything, this stunt had just pissed him off and he pitied anything that came between Henry and Bendipe. He hoped Alice was with the man, not because it would temper Henry’s wrath, but because she’d be safer.

====-====-====-====

“Henry, I know you’re angry, but peeling searchers is really eating up time we could be using to search for the rest.”

“Rat fucker took me from Bendipe. I gotta know if I can pull the ink-soaked flesh from his bones and wear it like a pelt. He gon learn a thing today Alice.”

“Unless you’ve already done that before, then he’ll just have déjà vu.”

“Fine, we’ll start searching. Any idea where we are?” Alice hummed, resting a hand on her hip as she scanned the room they were in. It was hard to say whether they were down further, but they definitely weren’t higher up. She knew the upper floors quite well. So unless the studio was reworking itself, she could safely assume they were either on the same floor or they were lower.

“No, I don’t recognize it, so we’re—at the very least—on the same floor we were on, or lower. There are places we’ve never gotten to on any rewinds, and I never go down this low. There’s a reason Allison and Tom are the only two to stick around down here. It’s closer to Jendy than anyone should really want to be.” She was a mite bit bitter she couldn’t be more useful, but really, she was cowardly and hiding on the floors above was the best way for her to survive. She’d have to see about exploring on the next rewind.

It was stinging to realize there would most certainly be a rewind as well. She followed Henry, trying to keep her thoughts light for fear of getting distracted. Though he let her hold his shirt, he couldn’t risk having only one hand free and it was the best thing they could come up with to be sure she wouldn’t get murdered without him realizing it.

Henry kept the searchers wandering too close from her, and she in turn used their inky remains to form weapons for him to use. It was something, and he liked the Tommy Gun.

Even so, it was hard to not remember how pained Allison looked before dying, how terrified she’d been. Alice couldn’t shake off the feeling her terror wasn’t over her state so much as it was over something else. A missing jaw wouldn’t be much to them, not when the ink would readily torment them for the few minutes it took to fix the damage.  The jaw wasn’t vital, and the ink didn’t treat it as such. It was why she’d had to run Allison through. If not the jaw, then something else.

As a piece of searcher flew by her head, she pondered it further, taking a brief moment to slam a searchers face into the wall via swift kick delivered mercilessly.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead grimaced at the ink coating his upper arms and lower legs, wanting to clean himself off but not wanting to leave Norman alone. Not with how Jendy was targeting him. He settled for sticking his arms into the shadows, letting the fire from Mugman’s Domain eat away the ink while his washed the more caked on bits off.  The room they were in offered a spot of rest. In it, Cuphead took a moment to wonder how his sibling was faring. Ever since the potion fiasco, Mugman was the worst at being away from Cuphead for too long. Cuphead could handle a few days alone, Mugman got antsy.  Not that Cuphead did much better after three days, he got snippy, and a snippy god with a cranky Domain was more trouble than anything else.

Then he wondered how the other gods were doing, because he had no idea how they’d react to the brothers no longer being there. He mostly hoped they’d dished out twice what the cult had given them.

====-====-====-====

“So you see, your descendant is pathetic and should be scrubbed from the very dredges of your family line. Up to, and including, whatever remains of him once we’re done.” Chalice finished her little speech, ignoring the corpse drooling behind her. The family, some alive, many dead and revived for this, just stared at her in horror. She nodded, glad her message had gotten across, and proceeded to order the corpse into the nearby fireplace, not minding much when it combust and started to spread more fire as it drooled a bit more onto the carpet. The family panicked, running from the house as flames spread. The ancestors scrambled away, not putting a single question into where the soul had gone if the corpse was currently roasting away. She was the Goddess of Death, it wasn’t exactly a mystery as to what a woman known for tearing souls into shreds did to their descendent.

Done with her task of informing the last of the families of just what attacking their own won them, she returned to the rest on Inkwell. It hadn’t exactly been their first pick, but Inkwell and Hell both were far stronger than them. And it was hoped that since Mugman had died in Hell, Hell would be able to find him better. Inkwell was using the many ties of magic to dredge into whatever it was, scouring this and that for the children at the behest of not only them, but its own fondness for the children. All the deities had—after eliminating _stupidity_ from…well _every plane of existence—_ converged on Inkwell, using it as their central hub.

The various mortals there had readily agreed to help scour through the books. The apple she didn’t remember the name of and Porkrind especially. Kahl and Werner both were fighting over how to get a machine to latch onto Domains or signatures of said Domains so any deity could be called up through it. Neither could agree just how to make it happen, which meant they were throwing various things in the scrap yard at one another all while shouting out ideas. Phantom Express had offered to try using its tracks to find them, hopeful the soul liquid they’d spilled on its cars might allow it to find them wherever they were, but their Domain had stomped its foot down _hard_ and refused.

Bon Bon had started ranting particularly vile things around the second day. Her stress baking made her house impossible to stay in. Her castle had to stay outside, and even then, it had to deal with her dropping plates of more stress baking onto it now that she was out of room inside. Elder Kettle had gone to his brother in the water. Both an odd juxtaposition compared to Kahl and Werner. Their conversation had been calm. The only heat that came in came from Elder Kettle growing increasingly worried. Their Domains were dropping everything into helping Inkwell and Hell, practically throwing themselves at whatever could make their children relax.

Djimmi had even tried granting the wish of bringing the kids back, only receiving magic whiplash that left him a pain-filled heap on the floor. Currently he was being looked after by Hilda. When she wasn’t in the land of dreams, hopeful that if the children fell asleep, she’d be able to find them. She’d had no luck thus far, and between that and her brothers slow healing, she was one of the ones Chalice avoided like a mortal avoiding death. Ribby and Croaks both chewed through their gloves, Domain actually straining with how much of a blessing it was giving to Inkwell and Hell and the rest.

The ones who couldn’t do much of anything just stuck around in case their magic or power was needed by either landmass. Though, no one was under the delusion Hell would so much as scoff at their offered help. Thus far, it was only accepting King Dice and Chance, and those two were looking far more haggard as well. King Dice had stopped changing form at the end of the first day, and had taken to staying in Hell. Devil had taken to refusing anyone entry into Hell, gruffly telling them Hell didn’t need them distracting it. Grim and Cala’s Domains both reached for the minute links the children’s Domains had with theirs, only receiving an odd, black, slimy response back. Which did nothing to soothe those who’d come to utterly adore the children.

Cagney had simply stopped moving, focused entirely on listening to Inkwell, following it. The same with the Root brothers. It was unnerving to see the massive deity slumped over, face hovering above the ground, hands resting to each side, still as the grave. Towards the end of the second day, Chalice had tried reaching for her spear, something that still resided in the children’s Domain. Though she was used to receiving no response anymore, it hurt all the more when not even a twitch of response, nor an echo of an attempt to answer her came. They knew the children weren’t on their world anymore.

They knew their children were out somewhere their own Domain’s couldn’t pull them from.

They also knew that if their children came back to them injured, it would be a world that ceased to exist.

====-====-====-====

Henry tore the face off a searcher while reading one of the posters, scowl pulling the corners of his lips down. Alice had stopped wondering just what level of violence he was willing and capable of going to a long time ago. Instead she waited for him to say whatever it is about the Alice Angel poster that had him so huffy. He didn’t stay silent on it for long.

“You know, either her character came in close to when Joey decided basic decency was paltry compared to demon ass-kissing, or she was only slated for one cartoon. There’s only one poster of her. I’ve seen Boris on a few other posters, but she doesn’t even get that.”

“Well there’s the toy factory.”

“The thing no one should…wait a second. If you wanted to get people to get to the stupid amusement park…” He drifted off, a dazed look of contemptuous horror growing on his features. Alice, surprised to be able to, followed his train of thought.

“You’d have to go through the main workshop areas, the toy factory, and the book puzzle just to get to the entrance. And even then, the entrance only had the…”

“There was only one ride, four games… I…” The two silently slipped into unadulterated awe in the unmitigated stupidity that was the design of the place. It was downright astounding how someone who claimed to have a knack for business could fall so hard on simple things any schmuck knew. Namely, how important location was.

Then the sounds of battle caught their attention, and they were sprinting out, recognizing Norman’s shriek.

====-====-====-====

Mugman looked at the barge.

Bendipe looked at Mugman.

The barge looked at nothing.

Mugman slowly put one foot into the barge, lips curled in distaste. Much as he didn’t want to use it, he didn’t see many other options. Setting Bendipe down on the boat, he opened the panel, trying to use the scant few times Werner had caught him during fits of excited creativity to piece together how to make the ride less terrible. The thing creaked, groaned, and wheezed, and they hadn’t even started yet. This only made Mugman’s trust of the thing sink lower than his hopes for a peaceful ride.

That died when the inky river bubbled, and his Domain caught a glimpse of something quite a bit more dangerous than the lone searcher watching the two of them from the hall they’d left.

“Oh goodie!” Mugman perked up. “I know this type of engine! Werner and Kahl both showed me how to… hang on…” His upper half went into the shadows, and two minutes of digging later, he emerged. A further three minutes of carefully reworking this and that, and he closed the panel back up. “That should give a kick of speed for us.” A quick wash of golden fire later, Bendipe was carefully held in Mugman’s arms, fire was wreathed around the barges paddle, and they were off at a nice and easy speed. Mugman kept the throttle low, and the engine purred away, carrying them into the depths.

Then they heard the sounds of battle from ahead, and the throttle was jammed all the way up. It was by the grace of luck that the shadows managed to pitch the boat hard enough to turn the poor thing as it careened merrily merrily merrily down the stream.

====-====-====-====

“Oh _now_ I know where we are! This is where the false Sammy usually breaks Bendipe and gets a lesson in pain!”

“Traitor!”

“Not quite like that, but we don’t have… Now fake Sammy. I’m going to be real nice by letting you think long and fuckin hard at just what a stupid idea swinging an axe at me was.”

“Mistakes were made.”

“Yes they were, now do you want your femur shoved down your throat or your entire arm. I’m feeling generous.”

“My lord isn’t!”

“Wh—”

Cuphead leapt at the ink demon first, having spotted him the moment he appeared.  Norman took the axe from his own arm and immediately went about removing the false Sammy from the picture, hoping he could do it fast enough that Cuphead would be fine. It hurt to not hear their Sammy’s acidic comments about the false one, but now was not the time to regret forgetting long enough that he couldn’t get to the upper floors and be with their musician.

The false Sammy wasn’t going down easy though. He was putting up a solid fight, without the usual snark or sass the true one had. Not to say Norman was struggling. Nor was Cuphead. His small stature allowed for him to basically crawl and skitter around Jendy, making it difficult—near impossible—to hit him. With strength no porcelain should have, Cuphead dropped down, nailing Jendy in the back of the knees with a swift kick. When Jendy went down, Cuphead did an impressively acrobatic stunt to go from being on his back on the ground to being face to face with Jendy, driving his fist into Jendy’s throat and knocking the demon off the ground.

It was going well really.

Too well.

There was no Henry to back Norman up. So when searchers started appearing, it was only because Norman’s light caught the barest hint of an arm swinging at him that he realized how much danger he was in. He threw caution and kindness to the wind, snatching the searchers arm and using the searcher to beat the tar out of the false Sammy. When it splattered into a useless puddle of ink, he just picked up another. Rage filled static poured from his speaker.

Jendy emerged from the building he’d been sent into, ink boiling from his anger. Mouth twisted in a barbarous grin, he went for Cuphead, confident that without any support, the toon wouldn’t last long. He used his height to his advantage, forcing the smaller one on the defensive. Finally, something distracted the child enough that he managed to snatch the toons shirt, hauling him up off the floor and snatching the first arm out of the air, intent on breaking the child into tiny pieces. The toon tried to kick him, but he was taller, and his arms were able to keep him just far enough away.

“Jendy don’t!”

He paused, porcelain crackling under his grip, toon going from grimacing at him to pure white with fear as his sibling stumbled away from a barge still wreathed in fire.

“You put my brother down right now!” Mugman stomped his foot, features set in a sturdy frown of disapproval. Unfortunately for someone who spent years honing cute, it was difficult to truly appear stern when he was panicked. Norman bashed a searcher into the ground, struggling to keep up with multiple enemies at once. As it was, he couldn’t really help Cuphead.

Jendy stared at Mugman, frown once more on his face as he took in one tiny, rather cute toon trying to glare, and one cutout _definitely glaring_ at him. Then he was watching the thing in the river rise up from the ink, fingers twitching eagerly for the easy target.

“Mugs!”

Being so focused on his siblings’ precarious position, Mugman would readily admit that he’d been too distracted to hear his Domain’s warning hiss. It was embarrassing, but Cuphead’s arm breaking scared him far more than anything else, so he’d ignore the teasing he knew he’d get later. A later that looked like it would have to wait as Mugman twisted, porcelain going pale as the hand darted for him. He flinched, eyes instinctively snapping shut.

After a moment of nothing happening, he opened them again, and was greeted by Jendy’s rather disapproving frown as he stood between the thing and Mugman. Ink wreathed shadows twisted, the rivers ink responding by swirling. The hand twisted, jerking wildly as if something was attacking it. The glove slowly turned black with ink, and it fell into the river, rendered useless.

Cuphead scrambled to his feet, already reaching for the shadows to get closer to his brother. Then the sound of breaking metal and a radio going silent caught his attention. He watched in horror that rapidly turned to rage as the false Sammy used a searcher to distract Norman enough to deliver a solid hit. Norman collapsed, projector utterly shattered, body rapidly dissolving into nothing. He didn’t have to do anything though, not when Henry descended from seemingly nowhere on top of the false Sammy. For a brief moment, all in the room could see the very personification of death cowering behind the personification of wrath as it punched its own palm, daring death to take away the false Sammy before Henry was _done._

“You can fix him, can’t you?” Mugman turned his attention to Jendy, looking at the man imploringly. Jendy continued to frown, looking at the remains of the projectionist and the child. “Please…” Now, had Mugman been alone, Jendy would have caved so damn fast it would have been embarrassing. But, with Henry screeching like a deranged honey badger, and with Bendipe glaring at him, sure he wasn’t going to do anything but potentially try and toss Mugman into the river or hurt him, it gave Jendy enough to latch onto. He continued to frown as Alice made her appearance. She froze at the remains of her dear friend, turned to him, and he saw _murder_. She made to charge at him, but he was plucking Mugman from the ground, hand large enough to wrap around the surprised toon’s waist and reappearing by the hole Henry was supposed to fall down.

Memory told him dropping the child would be stupid, so instead, he waited, even as fire began to spark in the air around them and the shadow of the child started to snarl and growl. Henry turned his wrath on Jendy, and perhaps it was the fact that instead of haggard, Henry appeared cool as could be, that truly struck fear into Jendy. He made a show of stepping off the edge as Henry and Cuphead got to him, dropping with the child and the cutout in hand.

They had to continue on after all, and the Studio went to work forcing them forward.

Still, the moment fire began to devour his arm, he let the toon go, not daring to turn and look as he vanished further in.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead looked visibly ill as the rest of the group spilled out of the shadows by Mugman’s feet. Cuphead staggered into Mugman’s arms, the other setting Bendipe down a split second before to catch his tired sibling. Fire wreathed across Cuphead as the Domain’s set about equalizing one another. Alice remained on the floor, knees tucked under her as she tried to keep from weeping. Henry breathed slowly, inhaling and exhaling deliberately as he kept his eyes closed. The box o’ joy was shoved aside in favor of the vault o’ things that would make the Geneva convention sick.

“No more of that brother.” Mugman soothed, letting his flames lap at the rest of the group. Bathed in a peaceful warmth, the grief of losing Norman was numbed enough, _just enough_ for Alice to get up. Henry took the blazing fury and set it to the side. He’d learned quite early on in the trenches that blindly getting angry did nothing. The war had honed his ability to compartmentalize his emotions, using them at just the right time. They would feed him when he found Jendy, and no magic studio would fix what Henry did to the man turned creature. Bendipe stared ahead, taking comfort in the flames, taking even more comfort in knowing Norman wasn’t forever dead, nor was Sammy. Not if the cutouts had anything to say about it for the next run.

Jendy was going to regret pissing them off that was for damn sure. That, and manhandling the blue toon beside Bendipe. Rude is what that was, and Bendipe wasn’t keen on letting the Bendy reject get away with it.

The studio, seeing the very face of malice leap from Henry, shriek ‘it’s too much! There’s too much!’ and sprint from the man, immediately set about finding some way of helping Jendy. It found it in two calls, familiar in that the studio had heard them before, just from different voices. It reached out, calling back, hopeful that they’d take the toons whispering ghastly ideas of what to do about the ‘unfortunate’ decision of Jendy’s to leave Norman and Sammy dead.

Anything to help Jendy at this point.

====-====-====-====

“Stupid pipes, stupid f—” Henry tore the shutters up and away, Cuphead helping him. Though the fire had chased away the black wrath, it hadn’t exactly done anything to chase away his ever-present annoyance with the place and its asinine games. Surprisingly enough, it was Alice who stormed after the butcher gang member, face thunderous, intent to maim hovering over her. It looked at her, and immediately tried to run. Only, it hadn’t expected the war like shriek she let out to be so hate-filled. It didn’t have a chance after fear locked it in place. The other members watched on in horror. Horror that turned to despair as Henry caught sight of them.

The toons silently wandered about, letting the humans shred the ink creatures. They were joined by the rest after a moment, three new pipes in hand. Neither of the two adults saw much of a problem with letting the toons explore. But neither would let them wander too far out of sight.

“Steering the boat huh? Oh and a big picture! Let me paint one for you Joey!” Henry’s voice went up in volume, not to the point of shouting, but powerful. “Beyond a bitch ass vault is a bitch ass throne where a bitch ass thing that thought itself something not only it wasn’t but hadn’t even given life to! A bitch ass man who hasn’t learned a single damn thing about quitting. A bitch ass dead mother fucker who doesn’t get exactly what I will do to you. All bets are off you waste of ink, and if you thought all the previous things done to you were bad? You’re in for misery, and I’m about to make an example out of your bitch ass.” He stormed out, steps heavy and sure. The rest followed. Alice’s expression was grim, the children were neutral. Shadows trailed after them, deeper than before, smiling _nasty_ smiles.

=====-====-====-====

“It’s his intent that lingers on that creature you know.” Mugman spoke up after a minute of silence. Henry paused, listening to the toon. “He’s only partially there, just as he’s partially in the studio itself. It was him that called for whatever spell or entity keeps this place locked in time. That creature isn’t wholly Joey Drew, nor is it any one singular person.”

“But he _is_ there, right?” Alice spoke up.

“Technically yes. Like a puppeteer. He’s the driving force and I suppose the reason he’s so much stronger than the others. The studio won’t answer to any but him, as far as I can tell. Sorry, I’m still getting used to this.” He gave her and Henry a bashful smile. Cuphead nodded.

“It’s weird, like looking at a puzzle glued together by one guy. It’d be interesting to see what would happen if you boot him out of the studio!”

“He’d probably lose whatever hold Drew had on him and just do as whatever pieces of the model he was supposed to be wanted.” Alice mused, frowning.

“At the very least it’d be hilarious to watch him flounder.” Henry added, already pondering just how to do such a thing. His thoughts were filled with flame throwers and actual decent axes, perhaps even Jerry the Jackhammer sitting in the basement that Joey most likely didn’t know about.  

====-====-====-====

Jendy sat on his throne, hands digging into one another as he pondered just how deep in trouble he was. He’d gotten Norman, but Alice was still around, and though she couldn’t touch him, she had astounding control of the ink, making it obey her commands for whatever weapon or item crossed her mind. Not only that, but the fire the blue child had set on him had left one arm near useless. The glove was entirely burned away, and it ached, something he wasn’t used to at all. If he had to pick a threat, that wasn’t the obvious—namely Henry—it would be that one. Cute or not, adorable and tiny or no, those flames shredded through him worse than anything else. Even worse was how it cut through ink with ease.

He had no idea how he’d counter it, not even intaking more ink would help, not as far as he could see. And attacking the child would only turn the heat up. There was no way he’d get to deal any damage out without losing limbs. Not only that, but whatever lurked in the toons shadows was becoming impatient. He could feel them prodding at the studio, at the magic. Even worse was how the hissing laughter sounded beyond confident, like it knew _exactly_ how to tear the years upon years of effort apart.

While holding the red cup, he’d tried infecting him with ink, hoping to destabilize the toon enough to lose one more threat. But something—likely that fire—burned the ink away. Then what was left was washed out by golden magic and what he could only guess was water. Whatever that fire was, it was treating his ink and magic like it was a hilarious gnat, hardly even an annoyance.

He stood, knowing he had to take a chance and get Alice. The less Henry had on his side, the better.

The studio groaned around him, wood creaking.

====-====-====-====

The quartet stood at the inky hallway, staring at the ink. With no Norman, there were one too many passengers. But Alice had something they didn’t, and one quick hop step later, she was across the room, inky portal melting into nothing behind her. Cuphead decided it would be far more fun to try walking along the bits of floor above the ink rather than be carried, but Mugman didn’t want to risk Bendipe, so he perched on Henry’s arm, Bendipe clutched tightly.

Alice laughed when Cuphead almost slipped, voice strained, pitched high with nervous tension. No one wanted to learn now of all times what happened when toons slipped into the ink. But the scolding given to him by his brother was hilarious enough that no tension really lingered. That tension died once they were all in the room and had remembered there was a sturdy door in between them and progress. Henry put his hand on Cuphead’s shoulder when the toon went to step up to bat.

“No, I want to see what dippy the magic wonder does to fix the good ol’ lack of Tom or Norman to bust open a door with no lever.” He said, going as far as sitting on a bunch of boxes. Alice snorted, doing much the same, making a show of looking at her nails despite the gloves covering them. The boys shrugged, amused all the same. Even more so when inky tendrils began to appear, only to be burned away immediately by a certain blue child humming a merry tune. The studio groaned, walls creaking in a genuinely worrying way. Still Henry didn’t move, didn’t even twitch. Alice followed his lead, even if she wasn’t as naturally relaxed as he was. Eventually, the doors hissed open.

Henry joked that the studio had probably tried to get a searcher to find the lever that was probably on the ceiling and needed four power cores just to get working. The others readily agreed. Even the ones not used to the studios shoddy build wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

With the door cleared, they trudged on. Alice paused at an ink puddle to dredge up a new weapon for Henry, choosing to stick with a sword she formed next. They passed by the projector, feeling oddly hollow at the familiar sound of a projector running that had been absent for the first time in a long time. It hurt, but that only meant Jendy would hurt more. And the plans Henry had once the end came again? He’d seen things in the war. He’d _witnessed things._ Joey was going to see and experience those things, brutally, over and over again.

When Jendy predictably appeared on the other side of the glass, Henry simply stepped up to it. Tapping on the window, he made a show of hitting the glass, watching the material flex under his attack. Jendy too, focused on it, seemingly taking comfort in how it remained in one piece. Then Henry _actually_ hit the damn thing, using his screwdriver to _really_ drive it home. The glass shattered, and like that, the ink formed by Jendy formed comical exclamation points and he immediately threw himself into the nearest ink puddle. Henry hummed, vindictive glee radiating off of him.

Continuing on, they finally reached the pinnacle of shit. The beacon of pathetic design. The thing Henry would point to first when any asked him why he was so angry and bitter at Jendy from the get go. The disgustingly wrinkly looking nozzle peeked out from the shadows, useless in every single way known to engineers, architects, mechanics, and plumbers.

He hissed at it.

It spit ink out.

He vowed to turn it into a coffee machine the next time he got to its shit-ass offspring.

Once again, Alice warped over to the other side, watching Henry load up with toons. She tried to look fully down into the hall beyond, scrounging in her memories for anything that usually popped up. Most she got was the usual jokes about how Allison and Tom never gave them weapons or any advice before sending them blindly in. Mostly because without Alice, Sammy, and Norman there, it looked plain cruel, near heartless on their part. Actually the more Alice thought about it, the less she believed Allison was any level of kind no matter what the other tried to believe. Tom made no illusions to being a jackass tough-guy. But Allison loved pretending she was tearfully watching Henry go off into certain doom all while remaining secure on her own side, safe as could be.

In a way, she didn’t really feel bad that the two had been caught early. The darker side of her thought it was ironic, funny even. She didn’t bring it up though, not with how much focus Henry had to have to not slip in the ink while carrying cargo around. As he got closer to the stairs, she heard a new noise.  Confused as to how she’d be hearing ink bubbling behind her rather than in front, she turned.

Henry looked up, the boys looked away from one another, and all watched Alice collapse to the floor, head split by an axe buried deep into her skull. The false Sammy looked up in time to see death descend on him. The soul powering the false Sammy would have been one of the ones to break free had Henry’s rage not grabbed it and forced it back in so the beating could continue. It was left comatose, a shell of a soul, something even Death couldn’t fathom how to work with.

The room following it, full of a small army of searchers, had no hope. They had but a heartbeat to understand what true wrath looked like in human form, and then knew naught but pain.

The studio groaned loudly.

====-====-====-====

Inkwell and Hell both cheered the moment they got a lock on where the children were. Taking the wide-open offering of the thing now holding them, they ripped open a portal as close as they could to the two, and gleefully waited.

The gods on the other side, scattered now as it had been four entire days and hanging around one another was useless unless it was to spread more ‘nope, nothing yet, what a surprise. Hey does anyone have any cultist souls I can use to punch stress away? Thanks Chalice.’ Either didn’t realize it or hadn’t been told yet. Only, it wasn’t the children that stepped through.

Ink seeped out, staining the ground a dark grey. Inkwell recoiled, Cagney and the root brothers shot to attention. A clawed hand, no longer off-model but not exactly mimicking the original source material, reached out, followed by the rest. Ink spread across the ground, tapping into the rivers. Goopy and Cala Maria had no time to respond. An entity that didn’t belong stepped onto Inkwell’s soil, and a barrier long gone immediately rose back up, stopping the spread of ink. Seeping into the ground, the nature gods had just as much a chance as the water gods.

Jendy, free of the broken control Joey had on him, gazed around the new area, taking in the way his ink warped and twisted everything from bright and gorgeous to mottled and rotted.

He grinned, and went about _exploring._

====-====-====-====

As it turned out, the one lever they needed to work was stuck. Henry, already livid enough as is, only reached ‘I’m so mad you can’t describe it as flash-fire anger, it’s gone straight into tundra levels of cold wrath. Nay, it transcends wrath entirely, it _evolved._ ’ It took him and the two children combined to haul the damn thing down. Already ten minutes into Alice’s demise, and looking for a stunning bit of retribution, they strode in.

None of them expected to see a bright light, a portal. Both children immediately perked up.

“Inkwell?” Cuphead whispered, hope drenched in every letter of his soft call. Mugman didn’t even bother, breaking into a jog to get closer, followed quickly by Henry and Cuphead. Of course, the moment he got within four feet of it, gravity immediately changed, and he didn’t have a chance to contemplate how to handle a portal to Inkwell being right there with Bendipe under his arm and Henry still needing their help. He was summarily pulled in, followed much the same by the other two.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead groaned, feeling a tad ill from going between worlds. The portal closed behind them, heavy static from it dying out. He glanced down at his hands, once again exactly as he remembered. It had been weird in Henry’s world, far too odd for him to be truly comfortable. As an added test, he called for Retribution. The ground under him grew damp, then wet, but returned to dry before it could go further. That was all he’d needed to get excited. He shot up, and came face to  face with Bendipe, or rather, he supposed based on the lack of mustache, Bendy.

From cardboard to ink, the other toon was shakily standing, staring wide-eyed at his hands, opening and closing them with awe. Henry followed next, scowling at his cartoonish body. It was just as weird for Henry to go from three-dimensional to whatever he currently was. Not quite two-dimensional but close, as it was for Cuphead and Mugman to go real world dimensions. The sight of his creation being right there readily took away from any discomfort. He didn’t pick Bendy up, not quite willing to startle the toon so quickly, so instead he just watched. Cuphead got just as excited, and turned to his brother to see how Mugman was taking seeing his temporary dance partner in full motion.

Instead he saw Jendy, one hand wrapped across Mugman’s face coming up from the pool of ink below. Mugman was frozen in shock, hands reaching for the massive one across his face but not touching. Jendy loomed over him, wide, sharp grin decorating his face. When he caught Cuphead’s eye, he held his free hand up in a ‘shh’ motion, and before Cuphead or the other two who had taken notice could react, Mugman was shoved into the ink, vanishing entirely from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!   
> WHOOOOOOOOOOO! HERE WE GO BITCHES!


	12. Inked? Well...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No summaries, we die like writers.

The shadow below Cuphead let out a shriek, powerful and ground shaking as Cuphead’s eyes burned bright gold. The feather etched into his back, dormant in their time spent at the studio, blazed.

Usually, a shadow warping, bending, changing as the child’s was, would instill a healthy spot of fear in whoever happened to be on the hit-list. Jendy however, who looked far better if Henry was actually paying attention to the smooth, no longer asymmetrical body. The background parts of his brain were, but the war parts? Those were focused on the ‘danger! Danger right there! Run!’ feeling he was getting as the air grew damp.

“Give my brother _back._ ” Cuphead’s voice was weighted with something else, something not of any natural realm. It made the two beside him feel genuine fear, even if it was for a moment for one of them. The other, edging closer to Henry, also happened to notice how a new shadow was looming over them. As he turned, the two watching Jendy were treated with him shrugging lightly, giving a little wave, and vanishing into the ink.

Cuphead’s body moved, but not to go after Jendy. Instead he was crashing into Henry and Bendipe, shoving them to one side just in time to avoid a very familiar hand swinging at them. Cuphead’s rage was stomped down by surprise as he looked up at the owner of that hand. That surprise died an agonizing death at the hands of horror.

Cagney, petals soaked a deep grey, ragged and mottled. His stem was more vine like, tar black with wickedly sharp thorns that gouged into the ground with every movement of his. He didn’t have eyes anymore, just gaping sockets spilling what could only be ink down his haggard, snarling face.

“Cagney? It’s me!” Cuphead called out, disbelief high.

Henry recognized that name from one of the many the boys had told him about. He distinctly recalled the thing in front of them looking quite a bit more friendly than what he currently was. Instead of settling down as Cuphead had hoped, Cagney only bared more teeth, hands that looked charred racing for him. It was only by the speed that Cuphead’s Domain pulled them all in that they avoided it. It dropped them in front of a small home. Shaken, confused, angry, and scared, Cuphead hadn’t really told his Domain where to put them. He hadn’t even told it to make them move, but putting them by the one who raised the brothers was likely its instinct.

Believing the god of wisdom and magic would know what happened, Cuphead ripped open the ink stained door, calling out for his caretaker, voice rattling as much as he was. There was ink positively _everywhere_ , a sure sign of battle. But Cuphead had seen Elder Kettle take up arms. Granted, it was after a fault read, but he’d seen it.

Elder Kettle was near impossible to even get close to. Though older, he was still decently strong thanks to his metal body. With knowledge and wisdom came knowing nearly every fighting style and how to counter it. Elder Kettle played up his Elder status, but it was only because he rather enjoyed stomping the phrase ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ into them. Not only that, but with a doting Domain pouring everything it had into barriers and disfiguring retaliatory strikes, there should have been a single ink stain. Namely, a smear on the wall after whatever—likely Jendy if Cuphead was thinking more clearly—learned right quick and in a hurry what happened to someone who assaulted a deity.

Receiving no immediate answer, he motioned for the two to remain outside. Entering the house, sure that there’d be no chance even a jittery Kettle would attack him, he couldn’t be sure with Bendy or Henry. Even he would likely be suspicious over someone new after being attacked by an enemy who came from the same place. It was the creaking that led him to the room he and Mugman stayed in when the two were on Inkwell and when Bon Bon wasn’t hoarding them. In the center, slumped but mostly untouched, sat Cuphead’s caretaker. He gave off a relieved sigh, sure Elder Kettle was lost in thought. It must have been that sigh that got the metal beings attention.

He turned to Cuphead, and Cuphead, mid word, choked. It looked as if someone had bashed a heavy fist into the side of Elder Kettle’s head. Half of his head was caved in, shattered in the center, and ink tainted liquid dripped steadily out of the gaping wound. Cuphead staggered back, face tinged green, hand reaching out for the only other person who’d been in Cuphead’s life since the beginning. Elder Kettle hazily stared at him with the one good eye, mouth mumbling something Cuphead—in the state he was in—couldn’t understand. Not until the air started to grow heavy with magic that was definitely less than friendly.

Elder Kettle stood, body swaying heavily, cane buried in his side, acting as a leg as his real one was gone, torn off at mid-thigh level. Cuphead’s Domain hissed aggressively, warningly, displeased with something Cuphead couldn’t understand.  Elder Kettle’s Domain rattled the house with a grief-stricken wail, and once again the shadows were guarding Cuphead. Deep, pitch black shadows were pulling the child and the other two away before the magic in the air could do whatever the Domain was going to allow. It went for the first place no living being seemed to be.

====-====-====-====

The observatory was silent and dark. Though no ink stained the place, no Hilda Berg was to be seen either.  Cuphead curled up on the couch, flopping down onto it as his legs refused to support him anymore. He made himself as small as could be, unable to get a word out through the building sobs causing his voice to hitch. Finally, he gave up, removing his head and burrowing his face into his own chest while his Domain peeled from the shadows to hover by him.

Henry took in the scene, heavy frown wrinkling his face. Bendy clung to Henry, peering around, unsure of what to do. He’d never had to comfort someone, and no Mugman meant he had no one but Henry to turn to for any indication of what to do. He wanted to help, but just because he’d been around Henry so long, through numerous rewinds, didn’t bolster his courage. That thing looming over Cuphead—however soothing it tried to be to the one across from them—terrified Bendy. Not to mention, unlike Henry, Jendy’s new appearance was the first thing he noticed. No more gloves, just sharp fingers with sharper nails. No more malformed, malnourished body, he was more filled out, smoother. It was intimidating to see a more aggressive version of himself, and he wasn’t keen on running into Jendy again unless it was to get back Mugman.  So for now, he settled by Henry, taking comfort and taking stock of his, and their, current situation. Henry however, just sat on the nearest bed, choosing to let the thing focusing solely on the child.

One thing was for certain. Jendy had been busy while they’d been ripping apart that army. Very busy.

====-====-====-====

Jendy stared down at the ink, watching it seep into the soil. It was fascinating to see, but not near as interesting as the massive flower writhing as black creeped up his bright body. He didn’t stay to watch though, not now that he was sure the Isles he was on had far more interesting and new things. The trio of vegetables were nothing to him, the rivers flooded black with his ink… It was easy to wander what must have been the toons world. Even more interesting was how the ocean almost appeared to hiss and roil at his presence. The ink still spread unhindered, further and further out, deeper and deeper down.

He was about to pass a house when the door opened and a kettle of all things burst out. They stared at one another, one with growing fear, that slowly evolved into rage. Jendy however, remained interested, _amused._

“You don’t belong here.” The kettle’s voice was low, dangerous, threatening. “You need to return to your home.” Jendy only grinned, ink dripping from his slowly adjusting body. Gone were the heavily conflicting demands and shouts. Hiss body, no longer warped by an old man’s feeble memories and demands, warped by one who never drew the original, and couldn’t have ever created a perfected model. He was changing even as the other grimaced, then paled, growing smooth, losing the jutting bones. “If you’re… My boys, did you hurt my boys?”

Boys? The brothers then, which meant the man in front of Jendy was attached to the two. He continued to let his body shift, changing to suit his needs. To say he was bitter about all that Cuphead had done to him was putting it so lightly it wasn’t even comical. The other must have taken his silence as a response, because in the next minute, the air was crackling around him, thick with something a being within him recognized as one of its own. Magic cooed, and Magic hissed. Still, the man’s emotions were getting the better of him. The thing was, after Henry, Jendy was faster, faster still now that his body was no longer horribly malformed. One quick blow, one adjustment here or there, a minor fight, and he was off again. Not before finding a picture of the toons looking quite chipper next to one another, posing merrily for the photo. Jendy tore Cuphead from the image, tossed that half into the fireplace, and continued on with the remaining half.

He watched as the ocean darkened further as a barge chugged along, getting progressively slower the more ink saturated it. Interesting, but not enough, he wanted more. Pressing on, he arrived at a carnival, interest only growing higher. Those on that Isle posed little threat to him, feeding his growing excitement. The candy cane looking woman just about blew his head off, but his ink readily defended him, much to her surprise, and led to her downfall. Those in the pyramid were just as easy, especially with one being visibly ill. He’d have to find time to ride the roller coaster and Ferris Wheel.

In the studio, he couldn’t win. Nothing he did, no action he took saved him from Henry’s constant wrath. He couldn’t even call Sammy a win, not with how the man couldn’t even put up a fight. It grated on not only him, but the man running the grand puppet show. Joey, growing ever angrier, only made things worse for Jendy. It hurt all the more that his name was a bastardization of the old loon and the cute toon. Joey, who remained outside of things, fearing death so greatly he coaxed the main star of the show to deliver misery and agony. On the one hand, Jendy hated it. On the other, him, and the magic that gave him life, on top of the pieces that now made him up. No longer one single entity but many bound to the idea of a little devil darling, he’d been a confused mess from the get go. Hobo’s and hermits and thrill-seeking teens were nothing to Jendy. Easy pickings, crushed and given—no, _offered, sacrificed—_ to the ink machine. They never put up any level of a decent fight.

These ones did, even the sickly-looking Djinn. The dragon even brought out fire, but it was pathetic compared to the blue toon’s golden flames. His ink found it funny, comical, _useless._ They all fell to his ink, his speed and otherworldly skillset too much for those already weak from either surprise or fatigue. The next Isle too, was easy. The biggest threat there—a massive robot that just about crushed him—wound up _re-_ invented. The woman in the theater, stunningly and viciously protective of the stage, refusing to let him go further back, fell like the rest of them. He heard screaming from somewhere out in the ocean, but that simply told him to avoid staying near the dock too long. The train was a surprise, and almost put a hearty stop to his easy streak had it not been for the distraction a ghostly chalice gave him. He worked his magic on her, and the train fell promptly after.

While his main goal was to explore, his underlying goal was to deal as much damage as possible before they got there. He wanted them traumatized, horrified, easy prey. He wanted to see the red brat break down. It’d be icing on the cake to see Henry find nothing funny about the state of the place. And if that stupid cutout was with them? Well, the ocean—however hostile it was growing—was _right there._

Then he came to a cave entrance. Within it called out a voice, biting and low, demanding he stay away. Jendy on a winning streak didn’t listen. Jendy on a winning streak didn’t give a flying rats ass.

He went in, wiping the ink from his face to take in the brilliantly lit Casino. Interest piqued, warpath calling for him, _he strolled in._

====-====-====-====

Ink dripped from a broken billiard table. A pool of the stuff mixed slowly with the far more colorful remains of a shattered billiard ball. The pillar behind the pieces was destroyed, a massive dent indicating exactly where the point of impact was. A trail of the stuff trickled further in, passing by the drenched smoking area. In the center, in a pile of ash stained black with ink, was a mottled cigar, letting out pained huffs of smoke with every agony filled breath. Creaking from above originated from two entities. One reached out for the other with the only hand that remained. Torn in half, they could only choke on ink as they pitifully called for their other half, growing ever weaker the longer it went with no response. Down below them, embedded in a table, upper body bent near in half, laid a roulette wheeled woman, still as death,  with what remained of an arm aimed towards the bar. Glass coated the area, pieces clinking and chiming as the thousands of shards slowly— _so slowly—_ tried to reform, only to find ink in their way.

Some shards even found themselves down in the flooded race track, where a ghostly horse groaned, bones melting too badly for any movement to truly come from him no matter how he tried to crawl for the upper area. The stage was littered with glass and ink, fur dotted the area as well. Here or there, a spark of magic would light up, then fizzle out, unable to fix what was left of the shredded rabbit. A headless body, hands twisted gruesomely, dangled from one of the machines. A cymbal was embedded in the upper neck, dented and warped, having been the thing used to decapitate the creature. The other cymbal was equally forced into the main body, nearly cutting it in half.

King Dice watched, unmoving, as the thing that had done all of the destruction before him within the span of a minute and a half, crushed the chips in his hand, leaving the rest to fall onto a pool of ink. The thing watched him, grin stretched wide, ink dripping over its eyes. As the door leading from the tower to the casino creaked open, the thing just about warped in front of him. He remained still, frown tilting his lips down. It waited, as if hoping he’d do something, but King Dice had never been good at fighting, more one for spiteful disobedience. As the stairs creaked under familiar weight, a hand reached up. Cards embedded themselves in the things wrist, only to be devoured. King Dice felt oddly numb, shrieking across their Domain for his brother to stop. Chance only did so once it was discovered the ink just spread the twisting magic around, delivering horrible moments of chance to ocean-life.

A hand wrapped around the lower half of his face the second he opened his mouth, tightening steadily, more and more. As the first cracks began to appear on his face, his Domain tried as well. His eyes flared green, and then the glow died.

As Devil stepped out onto the floor, the lower half of King Dice’s face gave in, falling in pieces and chunks to the floor. The body followed quickly after, toppling down to the thing’s feet, the upper half of his head the last to hit the floor. The ink creature turned to the only remaining unharmed entity in the room. The fur covered man silently watched the body of the purple dressed die collapse, steam rising from him, then embers, then wisps of fire. The ink creature _barely_ managed to match the charge with a braced stance of his own. Even so, the heat was intense, _too much,_ he flinched under the beastly force, ink searing into the flesh of the thickly muscled beast before him. The very world around him _snarled_ , and the next thing he knew he was buried in a mountain, dazed, but not dead.

He wheezed, prying himself up and out, fear now warring with excitement. There was not a chance in hell Jendy could go back to that place without some serious planning. That _thing_ in there was easily the most powerful entity he ran into. The less he was around it, the better.  Still, mostly three isles was quite the victory for someone who’d not truly won since Henry stepped his old ass into the studio. So, scampering out with his head high, his ink twitched, then whispered, carrying the words he’d been waiting for.

====-====-====-====

See, long ago, Joey had Henry. Henry had…well Henry had a lot, but the point stood that he wasn’t solo. The same stood for many of the cartoons Joey’s and Henry’s minds carried to him. Everyone had a partner in crime, a buddy, someone to rely on and share mischief with. Bendy however, didn’t. Jendy was exactly the same. There was no sibling created for Bendy, no partner ready and willing to join him hand in hand for silly antics. To Jendy, that was the biggest reason he _just couldn’t win._ Henry always had the upper hand with more on his side. Sure, there’d been a few times he’d managed to off one of the ink creatures made from humans Henry had either been friends with or sort of knew. But Henry, upon realizing he couldn’t die, would just toss himself off a ledge or let a searcher kill him. The studio, bound by numerous rules, relying heavily on the one who’s intent and soul and emotion was poured into the things it gave life to and took life from, wouldn’t ever let him die. It needed him just as much as it obeyed Joey, and the most recent string of ‘keep him dead’ had been met with a blank response from the magic and the studio. They’d flat out refused in their own way. But even with Joey technically being on his side, it wasn’t nearly the same.

Boris couldn’t be considered his sidekick/partner, he was Bendy’s antagonist. The lanky bully who took pleasure out of making Bendy’s life _difficult._ Boris was always one-upping or hurting Bendy, callously too, with little care to even pondering entertaining the demon. Alice too had hardly shown in any cartoons at all to be anything but a one-time deal. She was nothing to Bendy or Jendy. An afterthought to both if the two were asked. If it had ever been intended for her to be a romantic interest, or another antagonist, it didn’t matter to them. She was _nothing._

Years, _decades_ even, of isolation. Of nothing but hollow souls of those unwilling from the start to feed the Ink Machine. Nothing but mortals turned immortal by ageless magic and the desperate greed, the desire to stay in the heyday, to relive the times where his name was on top of an empire. Nothing but that on top of the many, _endless_ rewinds where Henry _destroyed him._ Time and time again he lost, but of course he would! Jendy, only stronger than the rest simply because he’d gotten the most attention from Joey, the most passion and care from Henry’s work, stood zero chance against not only one of his creators, but against someone so steeped in war and _shenanigans._

Anyone would grow tired of it, tired of losing _over and over again_. But now? In whatever place he was in, he wasn’t losing. _He_ was the one spreading mayhem. Even now, as he flowed through the ink, finding his targets—no, his _target_ , he could hear the echoes and cries of his path of _exploration._ Spread out as he was, he hoped that would give him that edge he needed.

The golden fire had torn into him, ripping apart _everything_ , including pieces of what connected him to Joey. The golden fire had been the main thing to terrify him. And yet, the frail toon who wreathed himself in it, inspired other feelings. The times when the fire had allowed the rest to bask in its warmth, that warmth had spread to Jendy through the ink not scorched away. Rare as it was, the feeling of peace, of _home_ , was too much, yet not enough for him. In a way, it was two birds with one stone. As he rose, pressing his hand—his far too large hand, fighting that thing had put him back out of sorts, something he’d fix later—across the face of the smaller toon, he’d taken utter glee in watching his ink work as it had on those on the isles.

Even as the other one, the little shit in red, noticed him, got the others, the fire never emerged. He could have cried as the first time he could remember, victory gifted him win after win. The one in his hold was sent away, into his ink to be kept from the rest. He had plans, including ones that needed Henry to have as few side-kicks as possible. Let the Isle’s entities rip the other child apart, rip into Henry. Let Henry experience agony without the studio reviving him. Let the man feel despair in the truest sense of the word. Jendy would be quite content where he was.

If that little shit with the stupid feather on his back and his on-model reference got stomped down as well? The sweet taste of victory would only grow _sweeter._

====-====-====-====

It would be another half hour before Cuphead settled down. The shadow never left until the rattling stopped. It glanced up at them almost solemnly, and though Henry wanted to be freaked out, he found he couldn’t. He got the very solid distinction that as long as he stayed on Cuphead’s good side, that thing would never harm him. It had gotten them all to safety numerous times thus far, indicating it wasn’t against them. Whatever help they had, Henry would take. Still sniffling, red-tinted tears being hastily wiped away, Cuphead glanced around the dark interior. For a moment, it appeared as if he was about to ask a brother who wasn’t there to illuminate the area. Upon remembering it, instead of crying some more, he frowned.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bendy offered up a coin he’d found under the pillow, hesitant, never breaking eye-contact with the shadow. Confusion shot across Cuphead’s eyes, then he was remembering what had made him frown and he no longer cared to ask what a penny was.

“Mugs isn’t here yet.” He said quite plainly. “We’re home, it’s not a task to go through our Domain anymore. I pulled you two through just fine. The studio made it hard, like something was trying to keep us in that one area. But here? There’s no way Mugman wouldn’t be lighting that jerk up! And Elder Kettle too! He should have repaired himself by now!” He paused, glancing out the window, then down at his shadow. Two golden eyes stared back at him.

“What about his Domain?” The shadow slowly blinked, which only made Bendy relocate himself up to Henry’s shoulders. Cuphead went from confused to distressed, and Henry wasn’t quite sure what was worse. The fact that the shadow was clearly talking to the child or the fact that neither he nor Bendy could hear it. Cuphead must have realized it too, even through his growing distress.

“My brother’s Domain, it uh, it’s this.” He gestured to his shadow, “A super neat…fella? Ah… Anyway… See, they come in pairs. Me and my brother are a set. His Domain is connected to mine, and mine is connected to his. When he gets lost, I know where he is because our Domains talk to each other. But his isn’t talking anymore. It’s just ranting and raving and mine can’t understand what’s wrong beyond the fact that his is ignoring mine.”

“Is there anyone else that might know what’s going on?” Henry asked, calm and easy. Cuphead, still curled in a tiny ball, still hunched in, slowly nodded.

“Well I’d say Elder Kettle, but he…he tried to hurt me. So… Maybe Djimmi!” He sprang to his feet, slapping the side of his head. “Oh I can’t believe I forgot how the solution is a wish away! Come on!”

Before either of the two across from the toon could agree or question whether leaving was a solid idea at the moment, the shadows were bending and they were in a desert.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead had expected many things. He’d expected to pop up in Djimmi’s home, surprise the deity who most definitely would have sealed away the place. He expected to see the Baroness there, and definitely Beppi. Perhaps Puphead and Replimug, but most certainly more than just Djimmi. Instead he was greeted with a frozen wasteland. There was no warm sunlight, just cold grey light filtering down. The once golden sand was patchy with ink, grey and icy and entirely wrong. No exacerbated remarks for a jester to settle down. Everything was as still as the grave. He couldn’t see so much as a hint of the red deity, and it unnerved him. Especially since his Domain knew their Domains were in the area.

So, much like he did with Elder Kettle, he called out, body rattling as the cold began to settle in his soul liquid. Instead of a response, there was nothing. Except it wasn’t nothing. Not with how his Domain was already urging him to leave, becoming more and more agitated the longer nothing happened. Slowly, painfully, something began to move under the frozen sand. Clumps of ink-soaked sand shifted, a low groan filling the still air. Cuphead nervously called out again, wishing desperately for warm fire to chase the growing cold away. Henry was shivering and it hadn’t even been a handful of minutes. Then the thing under the sand revealed itself.

There was no way it couldn’t have been Djimmi, even if he was drenched in inky sand, body crackling like ice with every movement. It was horrifying watching the deity lumber ever closer to them, body half buried in the sand. But that wasn’t the end of it. A shrill cry from above, an answering growl from his Domain, and Hilda Berg was on them. Dropping down, she went after Henry, starlight and ink pouring from her shredded arms. A deep gouge in her abdomen spilled more stardust. One of her eyes had a deep gouge going across it, and it leaked a mess of stardust, starlight, and ink. Henry planted a heavy boot in her chest and shoved her back.

Cuphead called out for her, but his Domain called his attention to Djimmi who had managed to reach them. He was lifting one arm that seemed to have been broken severely, fingers twitching sporadically as the deity moved it. The shadows grew dark and once again they were back at the observatory. This time, even the shadow was heavily agitated, a low hiss filled the air.

Unable to come to grips with just how brutally mauled they were, Cuphead quietly sank to the floor. The realization that Jendy had done something so severe to the gods that even one such as Djimmi was unable to fix himself hit harder than anything else. If he and Elder Kettle and Hilda were so bad off, it was likely that the rest were too. And if their Domains hadn’t fixed them by now, it was likely they were stuck.

Henry tossed a blanket around Bendy, taking one for himself, another in hand on the off chance Cuphead needed it. The child didn’t accept the blanket, wordlessly shaking his head. The boy was lost, at a standstill. Not a single idea of what to do or where to go came to him. Cuphead had never been good at full on plans or thinking rationally. That was Mugman, and Mugman wasn’t there. He was in the hands of the thing who had decimated the gods. And now that he was truly taking in the state of Inkwell from what he could see and glean from his Domain, the barrier too, was back up. So there wasn’t any leaving Inkwell to see if all the gods were there.

Henry, at a loss, did as he always had when the going got dark. He schemed. The first thing they needed was confirmation on how bad it was. The second thing they needed was to know and or test various methods of fixing it. When Henry hit the studio, he hit it hard, surprising it, even if he hadn’t originally known the thing had an audience. He cleared his throat, getting Cuphead’s attention. 

“I think, first things first, we figure out what sort of horror show Jendy’s put on for us. But going out there without knowing is asking to get wiped out. So, how opposed are you to going back to that guy in the house.”

“Elder Kettle tried to kill me. I’m thinking it won’t go any better the second time around.”

“While fair, he didn’t succeed in killing you.”

“It’s the ink.” Bendy spoke up, looking at the ink stains still on Henry’s clothing. “I’ve been in there long enough to know what it can do. I mean, just look at Alice, or any of the Butcher gang.” He kept glancing out the nearest window as he spoke, as if looking for any vicious deities out for blood. Henry hummed, leaning back as his mind mulled that over. Cuphead too, started to share a silent conversation with his shadow, eventually standing up.

“I got an idea, but you two gotta promise to listen to me.” He gave them a stern look. “You fella’s only ever saw Mugs do his thing with his fire. But see, my Domain ain’t no slouch either! If that ink really is messing up my friends, then I bet I can wash it away!” Both outsiders perked up, intrigued. Cuphead wagged a finger at them. “But you gotta swear to stay close to me. Retribution ain’t a fun place to be if you wander.”

“What happens if we do?”

“No idea, probably just end up with the rest of the stuff we collect. Or you’ll get devoured and purged of all your faults and sins in a really, _really_ , painful way.” With a less stern shrug that did absolutely nothing to ease Bendy’s worry, they were swept away, reappearing in the house.

====-====-====-====

“I need time to get it going.” Cuphead whispered once it was determined that the other deity was not present in the room. Henry, hearing ‘I need a distraction’ immediately went to the kitchen and got under the sink. Next thing anyone knew, with a flick of the wrist, the sink was spewing out a jet of water, blasting out so powerfully it almost cleared the room. The pipes in the house groaned, then he was digging into the wiring of the house via light switch and right as Elder Kettle reappeared—Bendy turned green at the sight, pressing a hand over his mouth as if he was about to be sick—the lights began to flicker wildly. With the house as dark as it was, Henry appeared to vanish and reappear beside the metal god.

It was the loud hum coming from the wires that first kept Elder Kettle’s attention, then it was an odd toon tapping his shoulder, vanishing from sight, and tapping his other side. Magic once again began to fill the room, dense atmosphere making the lights pop. But on top of the static given off by the growing spell, there was a dampness in the air. Elder Kettle took a hobbling step, and promptly slipped on the slick floor as water continued to pour from the sink. In the dim light from the various gold sigils on Cuphead, both Henry and Bendy could see water rise from the floor, far faster than the sink should have been able to.

When Elder Kettle hit the floor, an unearthly cry of distress belted out around them. Henry flinched, Bendy shrieked, and everything _shifted._

====-====-====-====

An endless space stretched out, somehow light enough to see, yet the sky was deep midnight blue, near black, and the water below them went down endlessly. The magic in the air was abruptly cut off as a heavy weight took its place. Henry felt like something was watching him, observing him, and as Elder Kettle got back to his feet, metal groaning under the stress of movement while it was already so damaged, Henry moved so he was between the two smaller toons and the metal deity.

“Elder Kettle, I’m real sorry to do this to you…again…” Cuphead spoke up. In response, the deity took a shambling step towards them.

Henry wasn’t entirely certain of the next set of events. One second a near zombie-like thing with half his head dented in was in front of him, then he wasn’t and the water that was once still was rippling heavily from where the man had been. Bendy, however, just about wheezed with fright.

“What was that?!” He coughed out through a tight voice. Cuphead, eyes alight with gold, snickered at him.

“That’s my Domain. Ain’t he cool!” A low rumbling answered him. To Henry and Bendy, it sounded amused. Henry, being Henry, immediately agreed. Bendy took a minute to do so, but ultimately, deciding to believe Cuphead wouldn’t let him suffer the same fate, agreed as well. The part of him that had been watching and dealing with antics and was more cardboard than toon, cackled. The half that was Bendipe eagerly hoped it would see more of the creature, thinking of all the hilarious ways the Domain could scare the tar out of it. But it wasn’t in control, nor did it have much of a say. It was held in the studio, chained to a corporeal body, bound to the rules Bendy was held to. Thus, Bendy was left a tad more traumatized than amused. It was a lot to take in for someone still getting used to walking on their own rather than being carried.

Held in the world as they were, Cuphead called out for Mugman, growing despondent when no response came. Without any answer, and with Elder Kettle now in tow, they left the Domain, being spat out in the observatory to await the results. Focused as he was, Cuphead didn’t see the grey staining the clear water below as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think anyone actually reads the stuff here. So here's a bunch of random shit. Jendy is gonna get more screen time. Mugman is having a bit of a bad day. Cuphead is having an equally shit day. Henry doesn't realize it but he left the gas on back in the studio. I listen to the Fallout radio when writing this thing. As well as other stuff. Because that's what I do. I'm motivated by a wench of a muse who requires music to really get going. I'll be in the middle of an intense idea and bam, some fuckin light hearted song comes on and next I know its shitpost central in there. Then a creepy song comes up and boom. It's jacked up man. Bendipe would be tearing a pipe off a wall and daring Jendy to a duel if he could. Bendy would be screaming and flailing at him. Notice the fact that Bendipe turned to Bendy. That's important. Or is it!


	13. Build it up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

The studio, despite its many flaws, had one thing that made it at least somewhat comforting. Namely, predictability. It was predictable, barebones, plain, _boring_ … Henry could go on really. The studio didn’t have a lot going for it despite its lively interior. Not only that, but everything was ridiculously easy. Find this, do that, listen to ink creatures gurgling weird, pick fights with searchers who know not the true meaning of regret. It was so easy, Henry was fairly certain he’d gone through one time near asleep the whole run. He knew—even if it tried to make him forget—every twist and turn the thing could throw at him enough that no surprises were really surprises anymore. Oh sure, he’d realize something new about the levels of incompetence just about every run, but other than that, it was same old.  

Inkwell was not. Inkwell wasn’t even close to easy. He would have genuinely died at least three times had it not been for Cuphead’s Domain rescuing all three of them. It most definitely didn’t help that Bendy was—much as Henry didn’t want to say it—clingy.  The poor little darling, not the size of the true on-model toon would be, but closer to three-fourths the height of the cutout he once was, tended to squeal and hide behind him at the slightest noise. When one was trying to do reconnaissance, that was a hazard above all else. He was confused in a way, because he knew well and good Bendipe wasn’t any level of scared at much of anything. He certainly hadn’t been scared at the beginning of their arrival to Inkwell. But now, just a mere two hours in and he refused to leave Henry’s side. It was baffling to the man, and he was desperately running through reasons for Bendy to be so jittery.

Part of him wondered if he’d taken comfort in being surrounded by familiar faces, and having next to no one around but Henry was making him revert to his heyday personality. It could also have been being used to ink creatures who, by every definition, were as boring and bland as the studio. Not that Henry was surprised. Joey ran that place, and the guy had the imagination of an avocado.  Even in their golden years, it had been Henry and the other animators running the show. Henry especially considering it was his character they found the most success in. Boris was almost an afterthought, someone to add to the gags of the show. But even Henry could admit Boris did nothing new that any of the other toons of that time didn’t do.

Boris was Joeys. Boris was the one and only character Joey tried out, and Henry wasn’t stupid. He readily saw how antagonistic the toon wound up being to his own. And though it did add to the humor that a silly wolf would strike fear in a demon of all things, Henry knew damn well Joey was simply testing the waters. Finding what was the next powerhouse character to further the studio’s reach. He didn’t know who came up with the Butcher gang, but he only sort of hated them for it. They weren’t bad, but so full of nothing it was impossible to get their personalities based on how they moved or wandered the studio. He knew jack shit about them, so they were—to him, in his current pondering state—useless.

Alice too, was for the most part, useless. There was nothing Henry could glean from her or Allison, as they were too ingrained in their human personalities. But the thing was, despite not having much of an opinion of them, Bendy would. They were his fellow toons, even if they hardly appeared. He saw it in how Bendipe acted. Disdainful and unimpressed by Boris, completely uncaring of Alice, outright hostile to Tom, malicious towards Allison, and cold to the butcher gang. So, in a way, Henry wondered if the sheer number of toons in his own environment, his own playground, made Bendy nervous. He wondered if Bendy was remembering all the scary moments Boris dished out to him.

He would kick himself if he could for not bringing some of the comics he later drew out during the war. Or even drawing more in the studio so Bendipe—and in turn Bendy—could have more to work from, grow from. No toon truly remained stagnant. No toon ever sat in one descriptor. But as they were, with Henry nursing a sprained wrist and a near broken arm, he couldn’t do anything but let Bendy fuss over him while Cuphead paced.

====-====-====-====

After getting Elder Kettle, Cuphead had gotten it into his head to go looking for the other gods. He’d heard reconnaissance and took it to mean “barge into every home and go shouting’. This had led to just about every successful meet and greet ending with them running away. From dragons wreathed in tar black smoke that covered his mottled body, to trains pouring ink from broken, sharp-toothed sneers. The worst one had to be when they found the Victory brothers as Cuphead called them.

The frogs had been normal, surprisingly enough. Though one of them was nursing a stump of a hand that was a rotten grey, as if the flesh was rapidly decaying right on his arm. Cuphead had almost cried at how happy to see two mostly okay deities, ones that were just as happy to see him. Ribby had hefted Cuphead up onto his shoulder, practically stumbling over his own words as he went about trying to explain all that had gone down from what they could tell. Being in their barge, they’d been kept from most of the ink. All but Croaks. Croaks had tried freeing their barge, but the ink reacted as if alive, tearing his hand clean off before either brother could realize what was going on. They’d gone into the depths of their prized barge after that, growing more and more nervous the longer Croaks hand refused to heal.

“Its this damn ink!” Croaks bemoaned, sweat dripping down his brow from the pain. “Every time my Domain tries to patch it up it gets rebuffed! Why, its just about all Victory can do to keep the ink where it is! Don’t you go near this stuff y’hear me?” He’d warned the red cup, keeping himself a good distance from him despite the joy of seeing one of the ones they’d gone stir-crazy looking for alive and well. He was far too worried about what the stuff would do. Neither wanted to mention how the ink had been making him twitchier, his arm spasming as it seemed like no matter how much ink poured out, more was there to replace it. He’d barely touched the wheel too. The idea of his brother or the youngster getting hit by it rankled him.

“I can’t do that!” Cuphead haltingly told them to the best of his ability where they’d gone. He’d brought the Victory brother’s attention to the two outsiders, hurriedly reassuring them they were safe. “Mugs likes em!” And like that they were accepted. Even if both made a point of staying between them and Cuphead. Ribby even made sure to side-eye them. Henry nodded, hands up in a gesture of surrender. He could respect someone intent on protecting what was dear to them. Especially since it was his world, his bastardized character, that caused one to lose his hand. Bendy winced, ducking further behind Henry despite part of him screaming to reply much the same. He’d done his best to keep the two safe while they’d been in the studio, and it was an affront to the one now buried in the toon to be treated like an enemy.

“Oh speaking of, where’s they tyke? He out looking for the rest? All of us were on Inkwell y’see.” It was Cuphead’s sudden fiery glare at nothing that had answered them, and they’d _frowned._ It wasn’t so much the way they did so simultaneously that made Bendy step back as it was way they both shot glances at him. Very hostile ones.  Henry might not have been affected, but Bendy quickly decided he never wanted to be alone with them.

“That jerk snatched him up, and he hasn’t come back.” He bit out, shadow hissing under him. The Victory brothers grimaced at one another. Ribby couldn’t help but glance at Croaks stump and wonder just what horrible thing that creature they’d seen from one of the windows was doing to the blue child. Unsure of how to make the distressed one in their barge feel better, it was Croaks who tried, going for lighthearted.

“Oh well now, he’s plum cute enough to get anyone wrapped around his little finger. Why, I bet he’s got that future punching bag in the shame corner right about now!”

“Nah. Future punching bag ‘s right here, you ain’t wrong ‘bout the cute though!”

No one spared much thought to the voice Henry knew to have a heavy Boston accent of all things. Not until they realized not a single one of them had that. But once they did, Ribby all but threw Cuphead at Henry, spinning at the same time to face the new threat. To both older gods, their first thought aside from sharing reassuring glances to one another, was to protect the newest. If not because they liked him, then because Bon Bon would use their legs in her next feast. And Elder Kettle would probably make good on his threats to turn them into tadpoles. The one across from them, wreathed in writhing ink that crept across the floor, tendrils reaching for the surrounding area, warping tables, decaying the stands, grinned.

“He can talk?!” Henry broke the tense silence, struggling to keep Cuphead close.  He hadn’t missed how the gods had spoken about the ink as if it was a sentient entity out for blood. He’d seen both brothers heal from wounds, and the fact that Cuphead was so horrified at their injuries and appearances spoke leagues more than any words could. They weren’t supposed to be in the states they were in. They should have been fixed by now, but something was not only keeping them from doing so, but rotting away at their bodies. He could feel Bendy cling to his shirt, pressing against his side.

“Give me back my brother you pen sneeze!” Cuphead shouted, fighting the tight hold, eyes glowing with rage. Jendy snorted at the display, head making a motion like he was rolling his eyes.

“Wow, you spend your whole time in the studio coming up with that?”

“How the hell are you talking?” Henry spoke up once more, taking in the way the other looked even as the floor began to grow damp.

“With my mouth? But really, that’s not the coolest thing I can do. Wanna see, you tea party reject?” Without waiting for a red-faced Cuphead to respond, or anyone really, he flicked his wrist, and Croaks shrieked. Ribby lunged for the threat, rage filled insults spewing from his mouth that abruptly cut off when his fist went through Jendy’s chest. Jendy, face near split in half with how wide his sharp grin was, chuckled.

“And now, your prize for playin’ the stupid game!” Ribby went from wrathful to wailing near instantly, he staggered away, clutching his stump of an arm. Croaks bit out his brother’s name through his pain, forcing himself forward to try and give some support to his twin.

The floor grew wet.

“You know, I heard frogs legs are real powerful, always wanted to see it for myself. Care to demonstrate?” The coloration of Croaks flesh turned, growing greyish black as the ink raced through him, ripping through his veins. Croaks just about wailed, now stumbling over a swollen tongue, begging Cuphead to get out, to get away. Ribby too, body rotting right before their eyes, grit his teeth and called out to the ship. Croaks body twitched, then he was launching himself straight up into the ceiling in one powerful leap.

Had they been on the old Clip Joint Calamity, he would have gone straight through the rust bucket. But it wasn’t, it was new. Henry almost threw up at the sickening crunching splat that came from the impact. Croaks fell to the floor, body limp, head severely crushed into his torso. Ribby, grief-stricken, enraged, desperate, called out to the ship once more even as his body began to jerk wildly. The ship, ever loyal no matter what, built by people who loved them, responded.

Henry and Bendy both freaked out as the barge itself rolled boards under their feet, sending them down and back, forcing them towards the opening door. The floor dried up as Cuphead’s Domain took the cue from the barge and began hauling the trio away. Jendy, across the room, watching them escape, waved.

Ribby’s body distended, and he fell to the floor with a meaty thwack. Then, Jendy was gone, having had his fill of fun. The ship remained frozen in the ink, creaking as it struggled to remove the water that had been filling it in an attempt to make the enemy unstable by angling the floor. The ink in the water—no, the _thing_ in the water, didn’t heed its efforts, instead pulling at it, flooding more and more until the barge went under, swallowed by pitch black water.

====-====-====-====

After that it had been a bit of a blur. A carrot had nearly shattered Henry’s arm, a rat had almost bitten Bendy’s head off, and a bee was the reason Henry had a sprained wrist that ached badly with every movement. So now they sat, watching the child pace back and forth, muttering under his breath. His eyes had been switching between gold and red for quite a while now, one of the many signs of his visible agitation.

A solid hour of nothing but that. Just pacing and muttering and flickering. But Henry was fine with that. Mostly because he was useless right now, and he had his own thoughts to contend with.  On top of Bendy being different, Jendy was too.

First and foremost was the appearance. He was just about on model, if on model meant ink concealing the upper half of his face still, and having sharper, less friendly angles. It meant something Henry couldn’t figure out, brain too busy trying to rapidly compartmentalize all the things that had gone down. Second was the voice. He’d never really picked out a voice for his toon, but Sammy and a few of the others loved pinning various accents to the devil darling. Sammy was the one that suggested he had an ultra deep voice to counterbalance his tiny stature. One of the animators agreed, except they claimed an accent that went against his bowtie would go rather swimmingly more than a deep voice would. That, and all were certain Boris had a deep bass.

No ideas were ever finalized, mostly because any time Henry drew Bendy with an open mouth it made new interns cry. It was entirely his fault he’d decided the one place to truly get a demonic stamp of approval was the fanged maw, hence why Bendy never really opened his mouth, or at least, his teeth didn’t show much at all if he did. Even now, Bendy spoke without moving his mouth, voice echoing from somewhere around his throat-less region. Jendy however, opened his mouth without hesitation. He had the sharp-fanged chompers all of Henry’s test drawings had. Which meant one of two things. Either Joey was a snooping ham-guzzling bucket of back alley splatter, or the studio had taken anything and everything he’d done aside from the blatant rejects into account.

Either way, the appearance, the voice, the manipulation of the ink, it all pointed to painful times ahead for the trio.

Or, not trio, not with a body being dropped from the shadows onto the bed. Cuphead seemed to warp over to the bedside, wincing at the horrid state of his former caretaker. Elder Kettle slowly sat up, metal shrieking with every deliberate movement. A new pressure filled the air. It was almost like from before, but far less hostile. Henry stood, ready to help in case Cuphead wasn’t enough. Once Elder Kettle was sitting up, wheezing whistles shakily breezing from him, Cuphead took a step back, patting around his body, growing distraught when the thing he was looking for didn’t show up.

“Elder Kettle?” He hesitantly called out, body tense. In the next breath, he was pressed tightly up against a weeping deity. Elder Kettle clutched him near to the point of cracking, burying the part of his face not broken into Cuphead’s thin chest. The other two could catch fragments of ‘my child, my poor child, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry’ here or there through the body shaking sobs. The pressure in the air began to crawl along both Henry and Bendy, not aggressively, but exploratory. Even so, it was uncomfortable, and Henry grimaced at the twinge in his wrist as it passed by.

Cuphead pried himself away, reassuring the other deity that he’d be back with plenty of potions for everyone. No longer weighted down by a deity drenched in ink, it was a hop step for him. Cuphead wouldn’t tell them, but he did try warping to where Mugman was, only to be forced away by his own Domain just before the shadows that usually lingered around Mugman’s Domain tore his head off. It was horrifying to see the calm entity so violent, just about chasing at his heels, driving him away. He came back out with a bucket full of potions.

The first thing he did was ask Elder Kettle if he knew whether the potions would hurt Henry and Bendy rather than fix them. Elder Kettle, draining one into the gaping wound—much to Bendy’s disgust and Henry’s fascination—shook his head.

“No.” Was all he managed through a ragged, hoarse voice. Cuphead nodded, removing the top to one and offering it up to Henry. Bendy took it instead, giving a shaky smile full of false bravado. He downed it and the trio waited for something to happen.

“Great news, my dry throat is gone.” The devil darling said after a minute of silence.

“You don’t have a throat.”

“That should tell you how parched I was!”

“How did you drink that without opening your mouth?”

“How do you eat without a neck?”

“Funnily enough—”

Henry downed the next offered potion, almost slumping with relief as the pain almost instantly vanished. His body felt leagues better, energized even.

“Huh… Tastes better than I thought it would.” He mused, trying to get a proper read on the taste.

“Thank Cagney for that.” Elder Kettle spoke up, looking far better now magic and his Domain were free to fix his body. The gaping hole had repaired itself to a deep dent, his leg was reforming, devouring the cane for metal to use. He still looked exhausted, but it was lightyears better. Cuphead waited until Henry struck a pose to show he was feeling better as well to set the potions down and start introductions.

Elder Kettle observed them, face stony, mouth hidden under a sheet metal mustache. Cuphead nervously wrung his hands together, porcelain screeching when his grip grew too tight.

“So, rewinds?”

“Indeed, over fifty as far as I can tell, so far.”

“Dark magic?”

“No one ever said Joey was smart.”

“Don’t call that one a devil around ours. He won’t survive.”

“I don’t care what you fella’s got for a fallen angel, he goes after Bendy and I’m putting him so far into the ground, Hell will have to send an excavation team just to find whatever remains.”

Whatever Elder Kettle was looking for, he must have found, because as the last of the damage vanished, his visage instantly changed into a warm one. He smiled at them, nodding approvingly. “Thank you for taking care of my boys while they were away. It’s a shame we had to meet like this.” He gestured to the window where the dingy remains of Inkwell laid. Henry scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“Yeah, real sorry about that. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve dealt a healthy bit of agony out to Jendy and Joey before all this.”

“Oh no, We’re the ones who intruded on your world. A group that no longer exists messed with things they shouldn’t have. Glad to see that transcends dimensions actually, Kahl owes me that’s for sure.”

“No longer…”

“Cuphead, we started a contest to see who could remove the most from every plane of existence. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t Bon Bon who won! It was Ollie.”

“Who?”

“With wisdom comes knowing many things, like the fact that the root pack have been lying for years about their actual names.”

Tense atmosphere gone, they relaxed. Then, after a moment of surprisingly smooth conversation between the two eldest in the room, Elder Kettle perked up.

“Say, where _is_ Mugman? I’d have though he’d be here but I don’t see him resting or…” He drifted off as his charge hung his head low. “Hm... hm. Mmhmm.” Elder Kettle stood, body creaking. He brushed stray flakes of metal from his figure, face positively neutral.

No one was fooled.

When he started to shuffle for the door though, Cuphead lunged.

“No!” He clung to the elder, forcing the deity to stop the beginning of the warpath he was planning. “We just got you back! I don’t even know how he’s doing any of this!” Elder Kettle sucked in a steady breath, steam rising from under his top.

“Surprise my boy. Hearty surprise and magic not even mine understands. It’s fascinating how callous that stuff is.” He sat back down radiating heat as his anger struggled to lessen. “All I could think, all I could hear, feel, see…was pain. It was torture, I couldn’t even hear my Domain!” The air around them cooed. Henry and Bendy kept their mouths shut about how weird that was.

“I can’t begin to imagine how horrible it is for those who have the true ability to feel pain… Have you found any others not affected?”

Thus, came the halting and weak explanation of what happened to Ribby and Croaks. After Cuphead’s voice got too quiet, his face a bit too green, Henry took over, rather clinically describing all that went down. Bad intel was one of the top killers during the war. The more the deity of wisdom knew, the better chance they had. He even went into detail about all he knew from the studio, and the studio itself. Though it took a good half hour, it was better than giving him scraps and winding up dead because he didn’t know this or that.

“We’ve searched pretty much everywhere else. I haven’t checked Sally or Brineybeard, and with the rivers the way they are I’m not exactly hopeful for Goopy or Cala…” Cuphead drifted off, eyes focused outside, beyond the pane of glass shielding them from the rest of the isle.

Inkwell hadn’t looked so bad even when the gods had been corrupted. Back then, it just felt abandoned. Now though, it felt like a crime scene. The trees were thick with decay, the ground was splotchy with patches of ink, the buildings all had varying levels of destruction depending on how close to the gods they were. Isle three looked like Cala Maria had belly flopped onto it and rolled around. Isle two looked like a true carnival of horrors, especially since everything was still running. Not to mention the mortals that had been wandering around at the time. Isle one looked like where nature went to die.

No one had been spared based on their hop skip search. Cuphead had recognized Mac by the bridge, head crushed, body still shambling around, ink pouring from the gaping wound. Chip too had been found buried in the trees, blade bent so badly there was no chance of pulling him free even if he’d let them. The only other one they hadn’t checked was Porkrind, but Cuphead was just too scared. Porkrind, or Uncle Porkrind as Mugman called him, was quite dear to his sibling, and mortals, pseudo or not, had never fared well in Retribution. Not without Mugman there. He still recalled the few times Mugman had been away from him and someone required Retribution.

It hadn’t been pretty.

He couldn’t bring himself to check on Porkrind, at least, not without a spot of hope that he was fine. That, and if the gods were all wrecked, he feared the state of the shopkeeper. Those inside the buildings too, he hadn’t checked. Part of him hoped Jendy would have been more focused on the gods or those outside to go indoors. But him appearing in the Clip Joint Calamity was anything to go by, he was going back for seconds. Elder Kettles Domain, likely hearing his own Domain share that thought, caught Elder Kettles attention. He looked around the observatory, frown in place.

Though the observatory was currently safe, there was absolutely nothing keeping Jendy out. Not even a barricade on the door that no one had thought to fortifty. Granted, the thing was made of pretty heavy steel, but they couldn’t let that lull them into a false sense of security. Not when Jendy wasn’t playing by rules anymore.

“Hilda was caring for Djimmi before all this happened.” He absentmindedly informed them, frowning further at the lack of a mortal that so often stayed in the building. “So perhaps he won’t visit, but…” He drifted off, mind racing.  “My magic tried putting up a barrier, but that monstrosity was too otherworldly. He just slipped right through and put me down before I could get anything stronger up and going. We don’t know any counters. But,” He leaned back, eyes narrow. The trio leaned forward, anticipation for any ideas thick in the air.

“I don’t have the Domain for protecting homes.” Cuphead immediately perked up, then deflated.

“We saw Auntie Bon Bon though, she was outside, by Creampuff.”

“Yes m’boy, outside. Her Domain acts to protect the home, something she wasn’t in. Perhaps if you cured her, she could help fortify a place against that fiend. He tore through my barriers after all, I’d be useless.” His voice grew tense towards the end, ashamed that a deity as old and strong as he was hadn’t even left a scratch on an enemy that then stole one of his children. It was a stretch, but Bon Bon would be their best bet for any hope on having a safe location to stay.  It was either that or try for Brineybeard and hope that Cala Maria and the water would protect them or be enough of a deterrent. Something he heavily doubted based on the black water.

Interestingly enough, he couldn’t help but notice how the barrier around the Isles was keeping everything locked onto Inkwell and likely the entrance to Hell.  But if he thought about it, which he did, because what else was he going to do while the trio started to make plans on how to find Bon Bon and get her into Cuphead’s Domain without attracting more attention. Inkwell was likely the cause, having been the main source of power for the barrier. Hell too, fed the thing for a good century plus. Meaning it wasn’t his magic that was keeping that barrier up, but Inkwell and Hell.  He supposed they must have reoriented the barrier to go from “keep the gods in” to “keep everything in” which wouldn’t be too hard to do.

But the other matter, Elder Kettle was curious about. With Mugman, Cuphead’s Domain had easily devoured anything that stepped into the shadow, having no need to call for Retribution, simply taking them there instead. But there was no Mugman. And Mugman’s Domain wasn’t cooperating at all, which could be the reason Cuphead’s shadow was no longer strong enough. That just fed Elder Kettle’s fears, rather than assuage them. So he kept his attention on the newcomers. One who appeared old but fit, and the other who couldn’t seem to agree with himself.

Elder Kettle hadn’t missed how Bendy would try to toss something in, only to glance at Henry and go back to simply listening. His Domain caught an odd thing within the creature, but what that was, it didn’t care to tell him. It was much too busy plotting destruction. He remained silent, even as Cuphead and Henry vanished into the shadows. Vaguely he was aware that Bendy was left with him in case anything happened. Though Bendy was put out, he also wasn’t, wringing his gloves, scowling at his hands with a contemplative gleam in his eye. Elder Kettle left him to it.

Then Elder Kettle was realizing that he could have gone with them. Even if he couldn’t fight the ink, he could sure as hell fight Bon Bon. He cursed, forcing his feet under him once again and shuffling to the door. His Domain responded by delivering a swift kick of dizziness, scolding him severely for not thinking.

_‘The more of you who are around the more noise, the more of a lightshow. You will simply be cluing that thing into Feathers’ effectiveness in removing the ink. Worried or no, staying here is the **only option.** Now sit.’_

====-====-====-====

Isle two was horrible to be in if one needed to breathe. The air was both sweet with carnival food and heavy with ink fumes. It made Henry’s nose wrinkle, but it wasn’t enough to make Henry leave the child alone while searching for his aunt. Jendy would simply take Cuphead as easy pickings, especially if he was out and about while Henry and Bendy hunkered down with a far too observant god. Henry wasn’t entirely comfortable being around an unknown who had none of the harmlessness the boys had presented to him. Not to say he didn’t trust that Bendy would be safe. The man was observant, not ruthless, and hadn’t gone after them upon learning that one of theirs had taken his child.

Thoughts didn’t hinder his focus, as such, when he caught sight of a pile of what looked like cake had the cake been set in a humidifier and left for a good ten years to fester, he immediately tossed everything onto the ‘later’ pile. Cuphead too quit his quiet explanation of the various locations the deities could be, and dipped lower, as if that would help.

Despite Creampuff being there, sitting behind Bon Bon’s house, there was no Bon Bon around. Not connected to Inkwell, and unable to peer through the shadows the way Devil did, Cuphead wasn’t entirely sure how to find her. Especially with them trying to be as stealthy as possible.

“What are we looking for?” An unfamiliar, yet not, voice whispered conspiratorially right by their shoulders. Cuphead shrieked, Henry just whipped his elbow out, sending Jendy staggering back, hands covering his face. As Henry turned fully, target in sight, another shriek echoed Cuphead’s. Only, it wasn’t exactly full of fright. The ink writhed around them, snapping at the shadows that readily snapped back. Bon Bon emerged, dress shredded, hair tumbling in a mess around her face, one leg just about jelly with how destroyed the bone was. She had a massive dent in her side as well, likely from where she’d been slammed into a buildings corner.

To a child who adored her, it was just as painful to see her state as it was to see Elder Kettles, but her appearance was all his Domain needed to just take the power it needed from an unwilling partner Domain and drag the group into Retribution. Jendy hummed, kicking at the water while Bon Bon started limping towards them, ink trailing behind her. Choosing to see her as the biggest threat considering she had full access to her shotgun and was already pulling it out, Cuphead’s Domain focused on her while the other two focused on Jendy.

“Fella’s I gotta say, this ain’t the nicest greeting I’ve gotten. Not the worst though!” Jendy spoke casually, ink rippling along his form. He stood casually, but even Henry could read the nervousness in his shoulders and smile.

“I’d be offended if you said it was, specifically because I distinctly recall a toaster on one of those rewinds.” Jendy bared wickedly sharp teeth at Henry, gratingly harsh laugh scraping out of his throat. Henry just stared, fingers subtly running across numerous tools on his belt, just _waiting_ to be used. Except then there was a woman latched onto his back, dragging him backwards, choking on the ink pouring from her mouth. Cuphead’s Domain fought to reach her, struggling through the murky water. Cuphead however, was _far_ to incensed to care. Soul liquid near boiling, he _glared_ at Jendy.

“Where’s my brother.” It wasn’t a question, a request for information. No, it was a demand. One that was answered by a snort and snicker.

“What? You mean you don’t know?”

“That wasn’t a request you backwater studio reject. Give me back my brother.” Jendy barked out a sharp laugh as Bon Bon went sailing past them. Henry continued cursing up a storm, following her after throwing the shotgun into the water below where it sank.

“I know! Point to you, that was very obviously a demand, but see,” Jendy’s form shuddered, ink writhing, shifting until he was taller than both Henry and Cuphead. “Only one that can normally make one of those is the one with the advantage. And, _well_.” He dodged Henry’s swipe, slipping in the water, avoiding the swipe of a claw from below. Bon Bon was nowhere to be seen, but the water wasn’t just rippling around them, making it clear where she’d gone. He moved to go after Cuphead, and immediately reared back instead, head tilting up to take in the _thing_ that lurked behind the red brother.

“Whhhaaat the hell.” He whispered. A rumbling hiss, a heavy growl, and Jendy was hastily stepping back. The water around him, darker now, still wasn’t enough to offer him support. It was quite clear the thing knew it too, crocodilian jaw twitching in a mockery of an open-mouthed laugh. It sank into the water, reappearing _far_ larger than before, only the eyes showing above the water, gold overtaking the remains of greyish black water.

“Time’s up.” Cuphead bit out, striding towards the one who’d taken his sibling and done horrible things to his friends and adopted family. But, as a startled hitch in Cuphead’s Domain’s rumbling came, Jendy squeaked as something else swept him from Retribution. He vanished entirely, but not into the water as others before him, he was flat out gone.

Cupheads jaw dropped.

“Wh… “

“Shit, that’s one way to prolong the inevitable beat down.” Henry remarked, confident a beating would commence eventually, so one not happening right that second didn’t really knock the wind out of his sails.

“No! He can’t… No one can leave or enter Retribution without mine or Mugs say so! How did he just leave?!” Cuphead answered, hands pressing on the sides of his head as he tried to make sense of it. Henry eyed the darker water.

“Maybe it’s because there’s enough ink in the water to give him a portal?” He offered, worry suddenly kicking in as he truly realized just how much darker the water was from before. He turned to look at the Domain, grimacing, face paling as he took in the patches of ink staining the bone white skull. The Domain peered back, head shaking just once, as if trying to tell him to say nothing. And when a giant creature easily forty times his size requested something, he did it. So he zipped his lip, hoping the ink comment wouldn’t draw attention to the Domain sinking back into the hazy water, vanishing not from its own intent but due to the water being near opaque.

Cuphead scowled, looking around at the water. Despite the anger, there was fear in the way he kept looking below him, as if searching for his Domain to get reassurance everything was fine. The rumbling continued, acting like a purr instead of a threat. Before Cuphead could really ask, he and Henry were dropped back in the observatory.

Elder Kettle greeted them warmly, Bendy smiled at them, then frowned while Elder Kettle paled.

“Cuphead?” He reached out, pulling Cuphead’s hand up to take a better look at the greying porcelain. Cuphead frowned, not realizing what was wrong until he too caught sight of his body.

“But I don’t feel sick!” He scratched at his hand. Elder Kettle wound up snatching his hand away as flakes of porcelain began to rain from the child’s frantic actions.

“Calm yourself! If your Domain isn’t worried, it’s probably not that bad, just something that will fade after a little while.” The deity of Wisdom soothed, forcing Cuphead to look at him as he did so. Cuphead nodded weakly, taking little comfort in how the shadows darkened briefly. 

Bendy frowned, hands digging into the cushion under him. All through the studio, they’d kept the two as far from the ink as possible. Now though, he was starting to think they should have tested its effects before all the horror going on now even began.  Bitter growling in his mind only made his grip tighten, but by the time Henry was looking at him, he was shakily smiling once more, as on model as a nervous ink darling could be. Henry looked tired, frazzled, not even remotely as relaxed as he’d been in the studio. It only became worse when Cuphead started leaking ink from his mouth, staggering, almost falling had Elder Kettle not caught him. He weakly pushed them away, saying he felt fine, only a bit light-headed, and would be better once he wasn’t weighed down by Bon Bon’s Domain.

Bendy, more than anything, felt frustration bubble and build in him. All in the studio, he’d been damn near useless. With legs, the ability to move, and an audible voice, he was _still_ useless. But he had to be on model. He had to, Henry didn’t like off model. Henry didn’t like it, he was sure. Bendy the dancing demon was far too cowardly to go out and challenge Jendy to a smack-down. Bendy the devil darling was far to nervous to do anything other than reach for his own weaker connection to the ink, scrambling as the others were to find something, _anything_ to force the ink to back off.

All he got in return was an acidic whisper-like cackle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More useless stuff? More useless stuff! I originally wanted to put art in this story, but frankly, i'm not thinking that would be a good idea. Nothing has ever been said about the other stories where i tried it out as well, whether the art helped or not, so I'm just going to leave it out.  
> Maybe I'll dust off my DA account to put shit there, but it ain't gon be here. Might not be anywhere if it ain't asked for. Has everyone seen that one video where Jared(One of the main creators of this fantastic game,) call Mugman Thicc? Because i've seen it, and the images it brings are forever burned into my eyes because thicc does not mean what he thought it meant. I've also seen that update where the root packs names aren't, in fact, what we thought they were. So there's that too. Everyone else is having a shit day but Jendy. Not surprisingly, everyone else but Jendy is displeased by this. Well, him and one other, but that one doesn't have a whole lot of freedom to say much of anything right now so....


	14. Take a sip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

The annoying thing about being Jendy, but better—if one were to ask the cutout side—was that, upon understanding that Bendy didn’t have the same things Jendy did, it sucked. Not for Jendy of course. But Bendy? It sucked a lot for not only his pride, but his confidence. In the studio, he was useful, he had things he could do as a cutout. Defend Henry, watch out for Jendy, repair himself with barely a thought, chase away searchers and the like. He could interact smoothly, but the moment he was actually in a world he was supposed to be in, _designed to be in_ , he failed numerously.

He’d been trying since they returned to get the ink to do what he wanted.

As a cutout, it readily fixed him, carried all the cutouts wherever they wanted to go, allow them to see and hear through one another. He could think about Heavenly toys and he’d be there before he even realized that’s where he’d been thinking to go. Hell, deep in the ink he’d had more to do. Some soul offed his dad? That soul _never came back to the studio._ He could work smoothly in the depths of the studio’s ink, with no one to interfere, no one to impress or worry about. When he chased souls away from Mugman, that had been fantastically easy. They _knew_ he was top dog. He and the bastardization of him _ruled_ that studio. But here?

He was nothing.

Jendy should have been nothing too. By all accounts, Bendy should have had more control. He should have gained full power over the ink the second it had both him and Jendy to pick from. He was the one Joey had wanted most. He was the main character, the star. It was blistering to be rebuffed by the same stuff that once readily kept him his own little home in the heart of the studio. It held Henry’s darling child, his creation, readily in the center of everything. That’s what it had been built on. The machines sole purpose was to bring life to things that only ever breathed and moved when animated to. By using Henry’s toon, all his reference material, his notes, anything and everything from him. Henry’s intent spilled into the magic, the spell, surrounding the studio. Henry had always wanted someone unexpected, someone to always throw a wrench in the general stereotype. Demons who were usually depicted as either mindless or threatening being turned into timid but eager for shenanigans.

Bendy was designed to want to have fun, to enjoy himself without bringing agony the way demons depicted in most other media did. He was intended to pretend to be a ghost, or make a snowman, or have a simple picnic. All things that were benign, harmless to everyone.

The studio, and a simple mustache, changed that.

Bendipe was born in a studio, from a cutout used by a reject, influenced by the fear he struck just by moving. He was a tool used to intimidate, upset, unnerve. The very thing demons in media did. By all accounts, that might have been the biggest reason Henry had chosen to use the cutout that became him as the new template. The others moved, for sure, but none of them did so in full view. All waited until he wasn’t looking, except Bendipe.  Bendipe was most often the one to chase unfortunate souls directly into the studio’s grip. Even before a simple mustache he did the pop-out routine. It was easy and effective most of the time, and if it wasn’t, if he was broken by angry drunks, the moment they turned around he was back, and the studio?

Well, the studio was _angry._

Bendipe, under the spell and tender mercy of Henry, grew from base cardboard doing only as told, to sticking his tongue out at Jendy when Henry wasn’t looking or hiding behind him. Bendipe _became something._ There were many upsides to doing so! Bendipe did so enjoy the many shenanigans, the very ones Bendy himself would readily do. Bendipe came to enjoy being part of a crowd that didn’t focus solely on devouring hobos who hobbled into the wrong studio. Bendipe _especially_ loved dancing with the toon no longer with them. Bendy was a dancing demon, and Bendipe was modeled after him, he couldn’t help it.

Bendipe was not Bendy.

Bendy was born from Henry.

Bendipe was born from the bastardization followed by Henry. He’d been a tool before he’d been a toon. To go from scaring ink creatures away, sassing ink demons, horrifying inky mortals who got it in their heads that they were holier than Henry, to sitting there, listening to the ink actively ignore him, _hurt_.

Henry was doing something! Henry was fortifying the doors. Henry was doodling a metric ton of comics to make a greyish porcelain toon feel better while he tried to fix the mistakes that should never have touched his world. Henry was active.

Bendy was not.

Bendipe would have been hunting for Jendy, using what he had gained from Henry to toy with Jendy. Mess with the jerk, mock him, maybe even tick him off so badly he gave up where he’d stashed Mugman away, get him back, fix him up, and watch the world burn in gorgeous golden flames of indignation. Bendipe would have done many things.

Bendy did not.

Bendy began to hate himself for it.

====-====-====-====

By the time Bon Bon was fully purged of ink—and the many sins that hadn’t been purged in the beginning which ultimately only made Cuphead more exhausted than anything else—Cuphead wasn’t remotely white. He was as grey as the walls of the observatory, ashen and constantly rattling as ink intermitted poured from either his straw or his mouth. The very second Bon Bon flopped gracelessly out of the shadows, she was on him. Doting, pressing and running a cloth on his cheek, trying to remove what refused to leave. She wept at the state of her adopted child, then, demanded _blood_. Upon being told Jendy didn’t bleed, she’d simply replied with “ _Not yet_.”

The two outsiders had varied reactions. Henry immediately adored how lively she was. She herself had sized him up, scowling heavily as she fixed her hair back up, putting herself between him and her nephew. She’d asked a series of questions. “Casually” got Henry to reminisce about the many shenanigans done in the studio. It was him emulating doing the splits while on roller skates circling a mentally and spiritually broken Jendy that got her to nod in approval. She’d spared Bendy a glance, frowned, and ignored him after that. Bendipe would have been right alongside Henry, bringing up other notable antics, namely, the barge incidents.

Bendy did not.

After Cuphead explained the current state of things, and after a wave of pure _wrath_ so intense wrath itself struggled to contain it all, she’d indeed gone about working to protect the observatory. Much as she would have loved to take them to Creampuff and let her mobile castle work to protect them, she _refused_ to ask Cuphead to clean up Creampuff. It was a guarantee, however, that the next time she saw Jendy, _by the stars above would she be ready._

Her doting soothed Cuphead enough, her magic and Domain flooding him with enough energy and sugar—no one, not even Elder Kettle knew how she’d managed to whip up sweet milkshakes for everyone without even a mixer but she did and that scared everyone but her, Henry, and Cuphead. Henry just thought it was great, and that she was great, and he wanted desperately to see her take on Allison. Not Alice, on the grounds that he was told Cala Maria would be better for Alice and her dual features.

“Allison likes trying to stab Alice through the chest. She also likes to tote herself a warrior, but bails the second something she should have the brains to outsmart pops up. By all accounts she should have had Jendy hog-tied with that damn rope she loves bringing up all the damn time. But nope! Just drew stuff and called me creepy once.”

“Interesting, perhaps later! It would be wonderful revenge after what the lot of them have done to our beautiful Inkwell.”

“I mean…”

“No no, had she not failed to truly battle against him, he wouldn’t have been here to kidnap my sweet nephew, make my other nephew ill, ruin my castle, and harm my brother. She’s pathetic and I’d gladly show her how one _actually_ wears the title of ‘strong’.” Bon Bon retorted, back straight, eyes sharp, head held high. She was _livid_ her sweet little darling nephew was in the clutches of someone who’d torn her apart. Anything and everything that should have stopped it and didn’t even try were put on her hit-list for that reason, and wouldn’t be leaving it any time soon.

Still, her showering them all with food upon hearing Henry’s stomach rumble during a moment of tense silence was nice. A bit off-putting considering how fast she went from threatening to charming, but nice nonetheless. Bendy fascinated her when he ate a whole roast chicken, bones and all, swallowing without ever showing a hint of a neck. Cuphead shrugged, stating that he couldn’t do that without regretting it immediately after. Then the two toons went about seeing just how different their detached heads were. Mostly because Bon Bon was being caught up by Elder Kettle and he was doing an impressive job of doing so.

Where Cuphead removed his head just fine, even tossing it into the air, hand to hand, casual as could be, Bendy could only wave his hands between his chin and shoulders. Bendy could swallow impressive things faster than anyone could see his teeth, Cuphead spat out a turkey leg after his soul liquid practically hissed. It was interesting, keeping things lively for a brief spot of time before Cuphead was once more hacking out more ink, some even running from his nose now. He felt as miserable as he looked, and had he not weakly called for Bon Bon to stay inside, she’d have stormed the isles, shooting up the sky, calling for _war._

Henry was the one who pointed out what should have been obvious.

“Jendy’s smart, I’ll give him that much at least.” He grumbled, perched beside Elder Kettle now that the observatory was ‘more secure than the cultists places in the bowels of Hell’. “Probably saw how effective Mugman’s fire was against the ink and chose to take him out because of it. I bet we wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d picked you.” He waved to Cuphead who gloomily stared back, wiping ink off his face with stained linen.

“I wish he’d taken me instead. At least then Jendy would have an angry Mugs do deal with. Sorry Elder Kettle, but I felt worse when Mugs scolded me than when you did.” Elder Kettle shrugged at that, looking just as torn as Bon Bon about charging outside and insulting the ink demon until he showed himself.

“Can he even get mad?” Bendy asked, both him and the cutout throwing memories of the toon around to try and find a moment the toon had ever shown anger the way Cuphead had.  Cuphead snorted, then hissed when his face cracked. Gold sluggishly healed the crack, to the point where Elder Kettle poured a healing potion over it and Bon Bon cleaned his face up gently.

“Course he can, he just doesn’t show it. You shoulda seen him kick Elder Kettle after we got back though!” He tried to sound perky, upbeat, but it was hindered by the ink trying to come out of his mouth. Bon Bon sat on the bed, ushering him to rest himself on her side so he could rest, reassuring him that anything hostile that tried coming through the doors was dying. He took that as a cue to close his eyes and just hope his Domain could purge itself of the ink. As he did so, the rest went about plotting.

====-====-====-====

“Ohhh, doll, you should’a been there!” Jendy paced, hands wildly moving as he spoke, gestures matching his excitement. “Well actually no, you shouldn’t. Would’a been bad news for me. But _the fear!_ I ain’t ever seen that jerk anywhere _near_ that terrified! It was _nice_.” He paused, ink running down his face, obscuring his eyes but never running into his mouth that was stretched into a bright, cheery grin.

“Okay, so I _may_ have gone _a tad_ too far. But can ya blame me doll? It was just… _so nice._ ” He winced, head dipping a bit. “Well I suppose you can, but it ain’t like I intend on leaving things like this! Well I might… I’m still debating that.” He scratched the back of his head, tugging on his tilted bowtie bashfully.

“I, well I tell ya what doll, I’ll go on out there and I’ll get those two back topside, hows about that? And uh, if I _happen_ to run into them bimbos out there? _Well_ …” The ink readily took him in, pulling him down and back out into the world.

====-====-====-====

Waking up, Cuphead felt better. Not great, but not near as miserable as before. Enough that he was confident—read: desperate—that leaving the observatory and getting Cagney would be completely fine. It wasn’t that he picked it at random either. Bon Bon, readily using her Domain, had reinstated every single protection she’d ever put on any house or store in all of Inkwell. By doing so, she’d been able to tell them not everywhere was hit by the “whirlwind of dickery”—as Henry described it, not even flinching when Bon Bon sent him a dirty look, pressing her hands to either side of Cuphead’s head for two seconds before she’d simply given up pretending to care about measly cuss words around him. She couldn’t bring them back, her Domain not having that ability at all, but she could say that a few places were clear of ink. Nor could she tell him whether someone was in those buildings, which only meant no one was invading or threatening the space.

As Porkrind’s Isle three store was one of them, Cuphead wanted to go see if he was in that one and if he was okay.  The only problem with that was a certain deity who had doggedly followed them wherever a spot of uncovered dirt allowed him. Stepping onto Inkwell’s soil was akin to loudly screaming ‘flowers are just fancy weeds and oak trees are the dumbest deciduous out there’ right at Cagney’s face. Blind though he was, it appeared as if he was attacking anything and everything that moved on the ground. Bon Bon speculated that it was because Inkwell was likely suffering so badly, its own pain was encroaching on Cagney’s current agony and making him attack everything in hopes of helping Inkwell. She then hoped Jendy tried his antics in Hell.

“Inkwell is feisty, Hell is _bitter._ None of us, not a one, have ever gone in there and _not_ come out unharmed. Devil doesn’t even have to do anything! Hott doesn’t even go in if he doesn’t have to.” She’d grumbled, fingers rhythmically tapping the barrel of her shotgun. The very one she’d been coaching Henry on. “They aren’t normal bullets in here, Djimmi owed me. You pull the trigger, and it will fire. Just, don’t fire it too close to my sweet boy. It’s also indiscriminate in what it hits.” She passed it to him after ensuring it was clean and raring to go. While it wasn’t a surefire defense, it was better than nothing at all, and Bon Bon was loathe to let her boy go without someone to hopefully help him.

Cuphead, still quite grey, shadow not nearly as animated, got them about as far as the trees outside of the observatory before he had to haul Bendy and Henry back out. Water poured down him, Henry squeezed his shirt tails, more fascinated/worried in how the inky water didn’t leave a single wet spot on the ground than annoyed at being drenched. Bendy just shook, fluffing out his bowtie with a flourish.

Cuphead would have apologized had it not been for the fact that they were standing on the ground and no angry flower was springing out from the dirt to try and crush them. Seeing it as a bonus, they tossed aside useless chatter in favor of “stealthily” making their way to the stairs leading down. “Stealthily” because a mortal Cuphead had been introduced to after fixing the Isles charged out of the tree-line at them. He almost shrieked as Canteen Pilot threw himself at the far smaller porcelain deity. Cuphead was hauled back by Henry in the same motion Henry used to plant a solid boot in the side of Canteen pilots dented head and _push._ Bendy followed that up by tripping the mortal, then hauling it back to Henry’s side. Henry proudly pat Bendy on the head between the horns, and the trio quickly continued on.

Henry hoped the toon behind them would act as a distraction if they needed to get away from the massive nature god. He may have been their target, but he was also _leagues_ above Bertrum or Jendy’s—in Henry’s opinion—stupid monster form. He was the reason they didn’t explore the tower, the bird house, the fountain, or pretty much all of Isle one. Hell, at this point Henry was fervently thanking everything and anything that the toons here didn’t show up in his world. Shenanigans would have been _nothing_ to this crew. Hell, he was damn sure the next time he got to the studio he was going to _skip_ through the antics it dished out. At this rate, even the times he’d been killed paled in comparison or scarring to this.

The great news was it was hard to be embarrassed about getting his ass kicked by a flower when the flower looked more demonic than floral.

Cuphead carefully led them to the area Cagney was supposed to hang out most often. Though, he didn’t go the direct route, instead passing by the empty garden where the root brothers stayed. He claimed it was to see if they were out and about same as Cagney. When nothing responded to them passing by the garden, Cuphead decided to push past it and focus on the far bigger threat. He hoped the root brothers never learned he thought they weren’t as threatening as Cagney; sure they’d crank up the pranks on him.

It was as they were passing across the bridge that the biggest reason for never going near the water presented itself. A thick hand, heavy with blue tinged ink, splat onto the wooden boards. Bendy shrieked, scrambling onto Henry’s shoulders. Cuphead and Henry staggered as the surface they were on began to tilt under the weight of the _thing_ rising from the water. 

“What the fu—”

“Go!” Cuphead shoved Henry towards the shoreline, shadow shuddering behind him, feather flickering on his back, eyes swirling with gold. They barely managed to get across before the bridge was torn from the land itself and into the raging river below. The water didn’t move as water normally did, acting more like a gel. Cuphead didn’t let them linger close by for long. Henry flat out picked him up upon seeing how insistent he was for them to move and sprinted up the path, away from the water. A gurgling shriek followed, but nothing else, and it was enough to soothe Cuphead’s tense frame.

“Goopy isn’t looking so grand now…”  Cuphead muttered, looking behind them as his feet touched the ground once more. Henry waited for Bendy to unpeel himself from Henry’s back before continuing on. He wondered if the shotgun would be enough to take on the likes of that thing back there. Or if it could do a lick of good against Cagney. They’d find out soon enough he supposed. Besides, Henry figured if nothing else, he could get _creative._

====-====-====-====

Their destination awaited them, shredded and torn, decimated entirely. Cuphead visibly recoiled, mouth curled in displeasure.

“Mugs is gonna be so upset when he sees this.” He muttered, absent-mindedly wiping a streak of ink that had hit his cheek off. Henry however, notice the nice, neat circles of various plants, and—in an effort to make even a hint light of a situation, spoke up.

“You know back in my world we got things called fairy rings. Circles of greenery that are just about bursting with life. You aren’t supposed to step in them, but, and this is more interesting, bodies buried in the dirt give you these things. I know this, don’t ask _how_ I know this.”

“So…bodies are buried under his garden is what you’re saying.” Cuphead followed that line of thought quite readily, tapping his chin in thought. “I can see it, Cagney once said graveyards were the easiest place to make pretty.”

As Henry was about to make another joke, Bendy tugged sharply on his shirt. Turning to the toon, he followed Bendy’s outstretched arm all the way to the edge of the Isle. There, standing practically at the waterline on the tiny slope, was Jendy. Behind him, vines writhing in pain, was Cagney. Jendy was ignoring him, focused more on the water than anything else. Cuphead’s eyes flashed a vivid gold, and he immediately started for Jendy. Henry however, didn’t like how erratic the vines on the flower were and pulled him back, choosing instead to sneak closer and get a clear shot of the ink reject.

“Y’know… Yer all bein real flat tires right about now.” Jendy griped, not facing them, but snapping a hand in their direction to indicate who he was talking to. Henry got a sort of far-away look on his face, eyes narrowing until he was glaring at the other.

“Did the bitchass with more edge than a metal concert wearing a gimp suit call me a bore? Oh _hell no._ ” He made to rearrange Jendy’s limbs, perhaps remove a couple, ‘renovate’ as he would say, only for a sharp vine to nearly decapitate him. Body moving on instinct, the gun was brought up and the vine was promptly turned into dust on the wind. Jendy ducked his head down, cursing up a storm as stray pieces of the shot clipped him. He turned then, teeth bared, impressive fangs on full display. Even his bowtie was bristled in indignation.

“Here I am,” His voice was low, and Henry wasn’t even remotely mad at how his mind immediately went to the movies he’d seen where people who had Jendy’s accent turned threatening. He was a _tad bit_ upset it was sort of effective now that he wasn’t looking at a skeleton in latex. “Tryin’ t’ be right swell for a doll.” The ink around them writhed, twitching, inching towards them even as Cagney’s hands slammed into the ground repeatedly, making the area around them unstable. Jendy rested his fingertips on his puffed-up chest, his other hand flew out to gesture to the river where they could see the Clip Joint Calamity peeking out from the opaque waters. “But you wet blankets gotta make it _annoying._ ”

“I hate how I can actually hear you talk now.” Henry intoned, face deadpan.

“Well I hate how you continue to suck in air but here we are.” Jendy cracked back, ducking his head to avoid a wild swing by the many vines around Cagney. “Though, looks like one of you ain’t gonna be doing that _for long_.” Though he didn’t have visible eyes, it was clear he was focused on Cuphead. Between one breath and the next, he was in front of the toon, not exactly towering over him, but looking down all the same.

Before he could say whatever it was he was going to, Bendy was on him. Later on, the devil darling would claim a fit of insanity befell him. By that point though, he also wouldn’t care that no one believed him. Now though? He’d forgotten that Bendy would have sprinted for the nearest rock or tree or gravestone to hide behind. He forgot that Bendy would have squealed and try to make himself as unappealing a target as possible. He forgot that Bendipe wasn’t on model. All he knew was the last time—and _every time_ —Jendy touched or got near a toon in Inkwell, they wound up suffering, and it appeared like Jendy was about to make Cuphead his next victim.

Jendy—and everyone else really—hadn’t expected a black blur to attach itself to his face, equally wicked teeth snapping far too close to Jendy’s flailing hands whenever they tried to pry him off. He staggered away from Cuphead, claws digging into Bendy’s sides, driving deep, hoping to force him off. Instead he learned right quick and in a hurry that, much like him now, Bendy didn’t give a hoot about pointy objects being introduced to his inky body. He wound up throwing himself towards the river only to be snapped up by Henry who made to use a nearby tree as a means of “renovating” Jendy’s bone structure. Jendy caught himself instead of letting his head slam face first into the bark. He twisted, inky body looking at anatomy and finding it silly as he did so. Henry greet him with a shotgun inches from his face.

Cagney wailed, fingers driving deep into the ground, vines twisting so violently they knocked both Cuphead and Bendy off their feet. The world immediately grew far more damp, then drenched. And it was only when the light around them faded that they all realized Cuphead’s Domain had been hard at work.

The water below was entirely black, impossible to see through aside from flashes of gold from below. Flashes that began to dwindle as the ink from Cagney immediately spread. Cuphead let out great heaving coughs, body rattling, chipping and cracking with the force of his body’s efforts to purge the ink. Bendy once again desperately reached for the ink, frantic to force it to listen to him as it did Jendy. Jendy and Henry fought, Henry keeping up with Jendy, keeping the other focused entirely on him.

A flicker of light caught Cuphead’s hazy attention. Cagney’s massive form writhed closer, relying on the noise to guide his blind rage towards the thing the ink whispered was causing him so much distress. Cuphead wasn’t moving to escape or retaliate. He could barely keep his head on his body, heedless of Bendy’s distressed noises beside him. No, what held his focus, aside from the sheer soul churning slick anguish the ink in his soul drove into him, was what appeared below.

A flicker in the depths sparked twice, then turned into a blazing inferno rising from below.

Gold flames plowed through the inky depths, raging without heat. It encircled Cagney, crawling up his body, delving into his countless wounds and cracks, purging not only the world, but him, of ink. As before, it merely brushed past Bendy. Not as before, it also just brushed past Jendy and Henry. With Cuphead, it near clinically dipped into his soul liquid, scorching away the encroaching ink more efficiently than anything else they had. Cuphead, too anxious, hope clouding every other sense, immediately looked around for either the scales or Mugman. Though he caught flashes of the hound and cat, that was all he managed to see in the afterimages of the fire. There was none of the usual soothing warmth that always followed the fire either, only efficient, cold flames, as if the fire was trying to burn everything as quickly as possible.

Jendy was full on frowning, observing the flames brush across his hands. Nervous inky sweat bead on his temple, slipping down his cheek. A rumble from below caught his focus, but before the _thing_ could snap crocodilian teeth into his legs, a flash of blue, a flicker of white, and he was gone. Cuphead’s Domain outright _shrieked._ It was answered by a powerful wail from the hound, a sharp cry from the cat, and then all were being shoved from Retribution.

====-=====-====-====

Jendy lost his footing, not ready for water to turn to squishy mud and he toppled onto his rear. Henry brought the gun up, finger on the trigger, murder draped over his shoulder, telling him a holey trophy skull was still a trophy.

“Mugman!” His finger paused at Cuphead’s cry. Jendy’s head swiveled to the left, and Henry reluctantly followed, war senses once more banging pots and pans together and shrieking for him to haul ass.

All throughout the studio, Mugman was nothing but an adorable, sometimes mischievous toon. With bright blue eyes, softer features, and a peppy smile, he was the perfect compliment to Cuphead’s bright, angular appearance. There was no smile on the toon that stood across from them. There wasn’t even a mouth. There was only the imprint of Jendy’s hand going across his face. Where it went over one eye, a void with nothing but a gold iris stared back at them from unblinking eyes. The other eye was just as golden, but it was also normal, as it originally appeared, likely because the hand print didn’t touch it. A single line of ink ran like strings down his arms that were limp. His posture was just slightly slumped, as if he didn’t care to stand straight but refused to slouch, leaving his shoulders loose. Ink splattered here or there on his body, patches of grey splotched like someone had hastily swiped an ink stained hand across him.

On one arm was the other imprint of the hand that had wrapped around the forearm. The ink almost seemed to writhe, never quite holding a perfect line on the white porcelain.

He observed them, unmoving, gaze devoid of everything even as Cuphead trot over. Free from the ink once infecting him, Cuphead’s pearly white hands reached up to touch the ink on his brother’s face, nervous smile on his face.

“Mugs?” He wondered why the fire had ripped into his ink, but not his brothers. Especially since it was his fire that did all the cleaning. Mugman didn’t so much as blink, body oddly limp but rigid at the same time. As his fingertips brushed across the pitch-black cheek, Mugman had a full body shudder, and slowly, he reached a hand up to intercept. His frail fingers smoothly curled around Cuphead’s wrist. For a moment, Cuphead assumed he was just going to brush the motion off. Then he was being bodily slammed into the ground. Even his Domain hadn’t seen the move coming, unable to use the shadows to reduce the impact. Cuphead’s body cracked, but didn’t break. He wheezed, eyes wide, arm almost cracked to the point of falling off. Then Mugman was dipping into the shadows and reemerging under Bendy who’d been following Cuphead.

Bendy didn’t even have a chance. He was sent up into the air by a single powerful kick delivered from below onto his chest. Henry barely managed to catch the swipe aimed to grab his shirt, likely to do to him what had been done to Cuphead. He didn’t expect his arm to be used as a support while Mugman planted his feet on Henry’s chest and sent the man into the ground. Standing beside Jendy now, all movement from the deity ceased. Even Jendy was silent as Bendy groaned from the tree branch he landed in, as Cuphead’s body let out a cacophony of crackling noises, as Henry wheezed.

Slowly, stars grew in Jendy’s now visible eyes as he sat there, in awe of the beat down he’d witnessed.

Cuphead’s attention went from his inky brother to the one who’d left marks on his sibling, and the feather on his back _burned._ His shadow _roiled._ The one below Mugman flickered wildly, the only sign of movement from the other.

“ _You put_ _my own brother on me?!”_ The sheer level of indignant rage would have made Jendy contemplate breaking out a snarky insult and bailing, but when the red cup charged at him, he was once again rebuffed by Mugman. This time, Mugman artfully flipped over Cuphead, using his shoulders as a stand while his midsection twisted and Cuphead was essentially jump kicked into Henry who’d only just started to recover.

The stars grew bigger in Jendy’s eyes. Especially when no pain befell him despite his position.

Bendy too was swiftly swung into the pair on the ground. It was only because Cagney made a surprise reappearance that Jendy finally snatched Mugman by the arm and hauled him into the ink. Unbridled joy radiated off his form, but it wasn’t enough to make Jendy forget that a massive, angry flower was there and his ink might not have as easy a time infecting the thing. If it would or wouldn’t, Jendy would test that later, for now, he was riding on an all new high and wanted nothing more than to not only figure out what had just happened, but also, celebrate.

====-====-=====-====

Cuphead’s Domain acted before any could recover, sending not only them, but Cagney away to the Observatory. Whether anyone would ever tell it how bad an idea that was remained hinged on the fact that not a single person outside of the Domain’s child was brave enough to tell it ‘dropping a giant flower in a building not designed for that is stupid and you should feel stupid for not thinking about that.’

The current answer was nil.

Henry continued to wheeze until Elder Kettle hauled him up and forced him to chug a health potion that tasted far less pleasant. Likely because while they’d been out and about, Bon Bon had returned to Elder Kettles home and retrieved as many potions as she could at his request. It was likely one of the reserve ones. Bendy groaned, flopping limply onto the floor, ink slowly removing the dent on his back and the leftover evidence he’d gotten his ass beat. Cuphead stared up at the ceiling, hands clenching and unclenching erratically.

“What happened?” Bon Bon rushed over, pausing at the edge of the agitated shadow spilling out from under Cuphead.

“Mugman happened.” Bendy croaked out, face mushed into the not so soft cement below.

“Jendy happened.” Henry spat, cringing as his bruised ribs healed.

“ _That ink stain is_ _a dead man.”_ Vitriol didn’t so much as drip from Cuphead’s voice as pour out. There was enough loathing, bitter hatred to power an entire continent had the innovation siblings dropped him in front of the machine that fed off that stuff.

Bon Bon and Elder Kettle glanced at one another, entirely lost. A swift peek at a dazed and rapidly healing Cagney offered even fewer answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> I really don't like Allison if u couldn't tell. I'm also having fun if u couldn't tell.


	15. Contracted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

Cuphead was letting off such a dense amount of ire, no one—not even Bon Bon—approached him after he’d gotten up upon being fully repaired by his Domain. Henry quietly spoke to Elder Kettle. The two had a map of Inkwell out on a table that—oddly enough—had toothmarks on one side of it. Heated whispers rose and fell from the duo as they plotted out the best places for potential ambushes. Bon Bon stared down Bendy; frown just barely visible. He stared back, ink beading like sweat as her gaze remained steady, unreadable.

Due to the clouds eclipsing the sky, it was hard to tell the time, only that night was either approaching or had already started to eat whatever light they had left. None of them knew how to illuminate the building without the threat of someone outside finding them. Or even if they needed to worry about that at all to a degree. No one knew exactly how observant or caring of signs of life those outside were. Which meant staring at the map grew harder as the minutes wore on. Still, two hours in and Cuphead was livid, Bendy was nervous, and Henry was determined. Bon Bon and Elder Kettle hadn’t taken hearing what had become of Mugman well. Though, neither of them came _close_ to how much Cuphead seethed.

There were now numerous things they had to take into account with only guesses as to the reasoning, and none of them were happy about it. Bendy’s ink would sometimes look as if it was destabilizing, his body drooping under the weight of his distress. Henry and Elder Kettle couldn’t quite figure any ulterior motives to a change in character so severe as Jendy’s. Bon Bon would try to focus, only to hear her Domain cry for her sibling, get distracted, and then snap back and realize she’d missed out on chunks of the conversation beside her. Though, she still stared at Bendy while she thought, mostly because she wanted to see when he’d snap and get out whatever was making him so jittery. She wasn’t exactly partial to someone being so high-strung around her boy when he already had so much on his plate.

First and foremost, she and Elder Kettle both understood that no matter how badly their Domain’s might cry for it, asking or leaning Cuphead into fixing their siblings was out of the picture until further information was give.. She also didn’t want to mention that every once in a while, something outside would scratch at the doors and walls of the building, only to be chased away by her magic. It had gone from curious to malicious by the tenth time, and she was growing less confident they were going to stay safe long. That meant throwing their only remaining “cure” to the ink out into Inkwell simply because their base instincts screamed for their siblings safety was out of the question.

Second, if Mugman attacked Cuphead, their siblings would likely attack them as well. On one hand, it meant they wanted to be there to help Cuphead when—none thought about an ‘if’, it was just impossible to them—he took them on. Bon Bon never actually told Cuphead about how her sibling wasn’t always the pudgy gentle giant he was now. That there was a very good reason he’d been adored for centuries by travelers. Ink addled or no, she was certain he’d be in for hell if he tried to go after Grim on his own. And though Elder Kettle’s brother was entombed under the water, he still had his Domain and plenty of access to whatever it might be willing to give without having anything but bones at the bottom of the pool to worry about keeping intact. When asked what exactly he could do, Elder Kettle just frowned and shook his head solemnly.

Third, they didn’t actually want to let him out at all. They more wanted to test what Bendy could do, perhaps even Henry. Them being more ingrained in the studio meant—according to Elder Kettle—that the ink would most likely respond to them far before it would ever glance at any outside influence. That, and though they both knew Cuphead and Mugman would be quite displeased—it was easier to think about giving Jendy a clear shot at the two outsiders who brought suffering to their world than their own. Bon Bon wouldn’t toss them to the thing if he demanded it, nor would Elder Kettle, but if it came down to protecting Cuphead or them, it was entirely easy for them to say who they’d pick. And when it came to something as unknown as the ink, it was even easier for them to rationalize hoarding Cuphead. While no one was sure just what the limits were, Elder Kettle admit that he’d tried seeing what pouring a potion into a puddle of ink at his house did while the rest were out.

The ink had retaliated by attempting to cleave him in two with a jet stream of rejected liquid. He’d left as it began to bubble in agitation. Bon Bon didn’t even try, having no attacks capable of erasing. Her heavy cannons could—at best—obliterate the dirt under the ink, and splatter the ink everywhere. Since they were currently on Creampuff though? She didn’t even sort of consider it an option to try.

Which slid into what the ink was doing to everyone. Elder Kettle’s Domain, the only one willing enough to translate what it could glean from the magic that practically oozed from the ink, spoke vaguely. It changed, ebbing and flowing until a deity wandered too close. The messages went from general ‘do this, have to do that, watch for those, reorient available sources of energy’ to ‘get away, stay _far_ away, how _dare you approach, get back, agony, feel agony, **drown in anguish.**_ ’ Which, coincidentally, was most of what the pair remembered.

The fact that Cagney had huddled into the corner, vines hardly extending out except to support him in his crunched position, spoke volumes about what he’d gone through. And that was another thing that truly got to Bon Bon. Cagney was one of those who had a high pain tolerance. Surprisingly enough, he only ever seemed to react when his plants were assaulted. He’d cry over destroyed gardens as if feeling every possible ounce of pain the plants could. He’d snap at any who tried to purge their gardens of weeds, angrily waving them away with acidic remarks about how useless it was to be so brutal. But when Grim, at one point, had flat out set him on fire, though he’d screamed, _it hadn’t been in pain_.

He went into a wrathful frenzy, tearing one head of Grim’s clean off, strangling another. Rumor had to step in before Bon Bon brought out her big guns. Ultimately it had been Cala Maria, having seen the scuffle from the coastline they were a mile from, dumping water on the lot of them that had everyone simmering down. He didn’t like fire, he’d said later. It scared him, but once he was lit up the fear burned away first.  To see someone who’d been so barbarous in the past and oblivious to pain, huddled and scrunched in a little side spot, body not even a quarter of the usual size, unnerved Bon Bon.

Then again, she and Elder Kettle weren’t tied deeply to Inkwell.

Cagney was.

Likely, he was suffering under all that Inkwell was, which meant he’d be absolutely zero help. A deity in pain was rarely raring to protect or aid. A bad thing considering the image of their tiny little Cuphead facing off whatever had become of Cala Maria or Rumor or even the Phantom Express terrified them. Cagney was the largest repaired they had, and he was indisposed. He hardly even looked at any of them, even once they’d greeted him. His Domain had healed all of his wounds long ago, not even five minutes after dropping from the shadows.

Which finally led to three major problems that—if even one was solved—would fix at least half of the numerous issues that had all stacked up.

One, Inkwell—and likely Hell—could not help. Inkwell was so affected by the ink, all the natural magic pooling within it was useless and or entirely focused on mitigating as much damage as it could. If it was useless against the ink, then Inkwell could potentially become a threat. If it was solely focused on damage control, it wouldn’t be a threat, but they’d get no help from the land or any of the nature bound deities. Which meant the Root brothers and Rumor would be more of a hazard than a help to go after. And if they were down, well, it wasn’t exactly a stretch to imagine how horrifying any of the water deities were. But on that note, that meant the likes of Brineybeard were a wildcard on repair. If going near the rivers angered Goopy to the point that he tore a bridge clean off the land, none wanted to imagine what Cala Maria would do. But that _also_ meant that the victory brothers were out.

Two, Cuphead’s Domain was not immune to the effects, no matter now much they hoped it was. In fact, it appeared as if the more saturated in ink the deity was, the worse the effects were on Cuphead. Elder Kettle alone had made Cuphead sick. Bon Bon hadn’t had enough ink on her to do more than exacerbate what was already there. Cagney though? According to Bendy and Henry, the second Cagney touched the waters of Retribution, Cuphead was down. Cagney however, was massive. And his body had basically inhaled any and all ink in the soil around him. That meant the bigger the deity or more ink saturated, the worse it got for Cuphead. The worse it got, the more susceptible to the horrors in the ink he was. All pointing to the fact that if he became too saturated in it, he’d fall to it exactly as the others had. Which led to the third problem.

Three, Mugman was _definitely_ down and out, thus, the sole deity known to be able to purge ink was unavailable for an indefinite amount of time. According to the two on the seat across from the gods, his fire had been _astoundingly_ efficient at ridding the studio itself of ink. Cuphead, clearly reacting to hearing his brother’s name, had scowled at them, eyes alight with irritation.  Then he went back to angrily pacing, air humid with tension around him. Elder Kettle, likely using his past experience with Cuphead’s habit of throwing tantrums, likened the boys current state to the fits long ago and calmly pieced out the major issue with Mugman being down. If Mugman couldn’t purge Cuphead’s Domain consistently, Cuphead couldn’t just go out and pick fights. Just because he’d apparently done it once didn’t mean he could or would do it again.

If Cuphead picked a fight with Jendy, it was game over. No one else had any hope of ridding Inkwell of ink, and no one else would be able to take on Mugman for various reasons. The biggest being the shadow that hounded the deity. Cuphead’s Domain was well known. It took glee in scaring people, often interacting with Cuphead and Mugman like a terrifying guard who happened to have a soft spot for its charges. It readily responded to their own Domains, surprisingly chatty considering how terrifying it was.  Mugman’s? All anyone was sure of was that none who threw a punch at the child came out of Retribution in one piece. That, and there was never a moment it wasn’t observing everything and anything around it. That made sneak attacks or surprise assaults potentially impossible for them to so much as try. Whatever the ink had done to him too left them in the dark on what he could do. What he had access to. If he had access to Retribution, there was a solid chance Jendy had his own little gateway into it as well. Which meant no trapping him in Retribution.

So on the one hand, they wanted to focus first and foremost on getting Mugman cleaned of Ink. But that too rounded back to the second issue. Cuphead’s Domain was not immune to the ink, and no one knew how much ink either Mugman or his Domain might have taken on. The fact that there was no fire was easy to understand. The ink was so destructive to them their Domain’s couldn’t do anything but try to stave off the inevitable devouring. If even Cagney’s was so badly crippled that Cagney had been blinded and craggily from the get go of the assault, not a single deity with a non-healing focused Domain had any hope.

On the other hand, they wanted to get as much of an upper hand as possible, which meant piecing together just what had happened when Cagney was being restored. Bendy said it was like a blooming inferno once Cuphead had fallen. The fire shredded through the water, the other Domain, Cagney, and Cuphead without touching Henry, Bendy, or Jendy. It did so with such efficiency, not even a minute had passed before Cuphead and his Domain were purged of the stuff. However, unlike before, where the fire reflected how Mugman currently felt. Soft and warm when simply illuminating, bitter and mourning when Boris died, vindictive when purging the safe room of ink and scolding of all things when burning searchers. But when removing the ink from everything in Retribution, it felt harried and rushed. Like its only intent was to rid the other of ink and be done with it.

To Bendy, who was rather hesitant to say much, that meant for that moment, the ink had no control over either Mugman or his Domain. If it was rushing, it was probably afraid it wouldn’t have time to do what needed to be done before either Mugman broke or the ink wrangled it back under control.

“It doesn’t care what Henry does to the Projectionist or the Worshipper or Angel. They aren’t necessary, mostly afterthoughts. It’s never cared about them, which is why they were given almost free reign of their little areas. What does it matter to the ink that things not needed or necessary wander the studio’s halls?” He hesitated there, nervously glancing at Henry. Henry gave him a warm smile and a gentle gesture to continue. “We, or…You, couldn’t ever truly kill Jendy in the studio. He’s necessary to it. If I’m your poster child, then Jendy is the Studios. He’s the one Joey wanted most of all. So all the countless Boris’ and butcher gang members? Simple afterthoughts. That may be what its doing here. But…I don’t… know.” He drifted off, wringing his hands together, smile wobbling with uncertainty. When all Henry did was pat him on his head, he beamed, not even remotely embarrassed by the amused huff from either deity paying attention.

“Perhaps. Here we are, three deities in, and nothing has been done to stop Cuphead or you. You said he was by the river when you found him? If he was more focused on the Clip Joint Calamity, there has to be a reason for it. Hilda would be our best bet for knowing what his motives might be if Cuphead can’t get anything…” Bon Bon drifted off as the air grew soup-like.

“I can! It’s just a lot of laughter!” Cuphead snapped, throwing his hands in the air as his shadow and the shadows around him rippled as if something was circling the porcelain boy. “Any time I try to go any further it gets angry and loud and just screams, there’s nothing remotely useful!” He finished, face red with building anger, body rattling, fists tight. A rumble from below him caught his attention and he was back to pacing once more. Bon Bon pursed her lips, eyes narrowing for a flash of a second.

“Hilda might have been able to get into his dreams if he sleeps, and it’s not impossible for her to simply observe dreams from afar, safely. But she’s with Djimmi, and that… He’s far too large and dangerous. Have any of you gone into Hell? What do we know about Devil or King Dice?” Elder Kettle continued. The two paying attention enough to answer shook their heads.

“No, that train just gets in our way.”

“Just like before.” The bitter words drifted from Cuphead, but nothing else followed.

“That could either be a good thing or a bad thing.” Bon Bon mused, nails rhythmically tapping on her crossed arms. “Either Jendy is trying to keep you from something useful or the ink knows something we don’t about whatever state Hell is in. So for all we know, Devil is chugging liquor and having a grand time mocking our current state.”

“Something to note. Did Mugman seem to be in any pain?”

“No, but he sure dished it out.” Bendy replied absentmindedly. Henry snorted, looking surprised at his own reaction. His face bloomed with a blush and he coughed into his hand. Then Cuphead was snickering and Bendy finally realized not only what he’d just said, but that Cuphead had heard it too. Even Cagney seemed just a hint amused.  Bon Bon fought to maintain a loose expression, lips wobbling. Elder Kettle grumbled about puns, then continued. This time, Cuphead was joining their little group, scampering onto Bon Bon’s lap.

“That’s not what we were like.” Elder Kettle finally continued, less tense now. “It was pain on top of misery on top of pain. What little I do remember of that time was how badly I just wanted it to stop. None of us had access to even a quarter of our magic. I remember trying to cast spells, but my Domain either refused or just didn’t have the strength to cast what I wanted. But you three came tumbling in, beat about by someone who should have been just as we were. What makes him different? Or is he even different?”

“He didn’t react to me.” Cuphead spoke up, fingers fiddling with a frayed bit of thread on his outfit.

“Well he did, it was just when you tried touching him.”

“Yeah, but he had no problem kicking us down, so its not like he’s suddenly afraid of touch.” Cuphead leaned heavily onto Bon Bon, brows furrowed low, lips dipped in a deep frown.

“I think before any ideas are tossed out, we’d have to run into him again.” Henry remarked, giving up on seeing anything in the deep gloom the room now sat in. Cuphead seemed to notice the human’s struggle to see, and the many symbols and gold on his porcelain frame illuminated. The feather cast a frosty, but effective glow. It wasn’t near as much as Mugman’s fire, but it was enough to put the group into a little patch of light as his Domain continued to circle them in the shadows.

“In all our running around though, he never showed up. I bet Jendy’s hiding him, it’s probably why he was as surprised as us when he appeared.” Bendy tossed out.

“Maybe. It’s quite strategic to keep the ace up your sleeve as long as possible.” Elder Kettle agreed. Cuphead grumbled some more, hunching further into Bon Bon. She arched an amused brow at his antics.

“This is great and all, but how does it help me fix Mugman or anyone else?” The red cup finally asked once done with his little grumble session.

“Child, knowing thy enemy is the only way to win a war effortlessly. So far, this Jendy is a bitter, vindictive, mysterious entity. All we know of him is no longer reliable. We’re starting from square one and he holds the advantage because of it.” Elder Kettle was patient, metal creaking as he shifted in his seat to get a bit more comfortable.

“He doesn’t know everything.” Henry idly leaned his elbows onto his knees, wrench in hand, examining it almost casually. Bendy nodded.

“And, I actually hurt him!” The devil darling puffed his chest up, pleased with knowing he’d done what others couldn’t. “He didn’t have any effect on me. I mean, the ink sure isn’t happy, but I’m Bendy. And if it can’t touch me, it probably can’t hurt Henry either. So that means…” It was on the tip of his tongue to say ‘Henry and I can go after Jendy just fine’. But he couldn’t quite get himself to say something so inherently out of character. Even if it seemed as though Henry was fine with his recent bursts of bravery. It was a start, but not enough to give Bendy any true indication that he was making dear ol’ dad proud or not.

“Which is a boon for us.” Elder Kettle took his silence as a go-ahead to continue. “What we need to do now is figure out just what we should be doing, but before that, some rest would go a long way for keeping minds fresh.” Cuphead made to protest only to be hushed by Bon Bon who stood enough to fluff her skirts out, sit back down, and maneuver Cuphead so he was resting on the plush fabric. Elder Kettle waved the two outsiders onto the bed. Bendy scampered so he was sprawled over Henry, happy for any excuse to sit and think through the countless thoughts racing in his mind. Henry didn’t mind either, in full agreement that rest was best now that the dark made it impossible to see even a couple feet from the glow slowly dying on the one illuminating everything.

Once the three were out, Cagney softly eased his way over, the barest hint of noise and nothing else as his body scraped along the floor. Though he was permanently grimacing in pain, he seemed determined to pull himself over. Eyes flicking towards the windows as he did so, intent easy to read by the two still perfectly awake.

He towered over the group, vines coiling around them all, acting as a secondary barrier to the outside world. The three still awake shared a silent conversation. Periodically, something outside would shuffle past, Bon Bon’s lips would turn white even under her lipstick, then it would fade, and she’d loosen her shoulders, careful not to disturb the little form resting on her lap.

====-====-====-====

A _very_ shaky hand _eased_ closer to a still arm. A light poke, followed by frantic skittering, followed by an ink demon diving behind a couch turned emergency barricade. _Slowly,_ the entity peered over the couch, frantically wiping the ink out of his face as everything from the bottom of his eyes down remained hidden behind the old piece of furniture. When nothing happened after a minute, he lifted one leg, _carefully_ climbing back over the couch, crouching low once he was back over. Even more slowly than before, he edged closer, lifting a lone gloved hand to barely brush the air above a thigh.

He tripped on the couch the next time he raced for what he hoped was safety, squealing as he went head over heels, narrowly avoiding the heavy pillows that spilled great gusts of dust into the air upon their violent introduction to the ground. In a panic, he threw the pillows over himself. While his rear stuck out, his upper body and head were hidden. He peeked out at the still form that hadn’t responded to any prodding he’d done since returning to his current home. He didn’t think of it as a hideout considering the current state of things on what he now knew to be Inkwell.

Mugman sat on the bed, legs tucked under his body, hands resting on his lap, unmoving, not looking at Jendy but not exactly looking at _anything_ really. With ink rolling down like sweat, frantic swipes doing little to curb the nervous flow, Jendy approached the one on the bed. Whoever previously owned the building they were in must have been a fan of plush items. As everything, from the carpet to the impressively clean bed was near cushion like in texture. It was on Jendy’s list to clean things up a bit, but before that, he was on a mission of discovery.

Crawling low, cushion on his back much like the shell on a turtle, he moved across the carpet, approaching the bed once more.

Instead of poking or prodding, he simply stared at the closest hand, pie-cut eyes flicking from the ink stained face to the hand _just sitting **right** there._ Hesitantly, haltingly, he reached one lone hand out. His nerves meant the once pure white glove on his hand was grey, and it stood out against the whites and soft blues of the other. Fingers shaking with fear—or anticipation, Jendy was far too unsure of these emotions to be certain—he carefully slipped his hand under the other until he was loosely holding it.

After a moment of nothing happening, not even a twitch from the other, his grip grew more confident, and he emerged from the side of the bed, no longer crouching beside it. The cushion remained tightly clutched in his other hand. The longer nothing happened, the wider the grin on his face became. He slid his hand free, running it up along the thin wrist, following the smooth porcelain up to the elbow, then to the upper arm, to the shoulder, then back down.  To someone who’d never felt much of anything beyond cloying ink and hard studio walls, it was fascinating. The porcelain felt so smooth it was almost soft, but didn’t give like flesh would when he put a breath of pressure on it. He looked up to see how the other was responding to the touch, and just about launched across the room at the sight of golden eyes observing him back.

He cleared half the room in one backwards leap, and the other half in a clumsy crawl/run. By the time he was confident enough to look back, he was huddled behind the cushion in a corner, pressed up against the wall. Confused as nothing else followed, the other even going back to simply staring ahead, Jendy lowered the cushion.

Considering he’d recently seen the other utterly crush the three bozos he knew were hiding away, it was hard for his mind to wrap around the fact that Mugman had done exactly none of that to him. He’d had to twist the ink in the giant flower while attempting to lift the boat from the water. The guy just kept trying to attack him and it was annoying enough that he’d curbed that attitude right quick and in a hurry. But, as evidence from how the porcelain toon didn’t so much as glare at him, Mugman wasn’t doing what the others were.

Jendy was not used to being around someone who wasn’t gunning to tear his head off or reorient his innards or use him as a hockey puck.

Needless to say, he was _fidgety._

But, nothing had happened the entire time he’d been with the other. In fact, the only time he actually moved was when Jendy was about to learn how effective foreign weapons were on blowing whatever ink was in his head out of it. Another fascination to him, as none in the studio did anything remotely like that. From the butcher gang to Boris to Alice to even the searchers, all feared him in the studio. While that was nice, it also sucked.

He was fairly certain Sammy thought he wanted sacrifices because of all his griping to the studio when he thought he was alone. Why Sammy called them sheep was still up for debate though. He hadn’t even heard of sheep outside of the cartoons Joey and Henry knew about. He chalked that up to Sammy’s inky quirk and left it at that.

At one point, a few times really, he’d even tried befriending Norman long before Henry got there. That had gone about as far as Jendy could throw Norman’s head in an enclosed space. Basically, not all that far.

The searchers all destabilized around him mostly because he hated them and the ink that made him up liked to snack on them when it felt like it. They’d shriek and curdle and melt at the very touch of his shadows. He didn’t even want to begin to think of those who weren’t just blobs. Those were worse than ‘dude what’s happening bro, what’s goin on bro? Where am I bro? Bodacious costume bro! It looks so real!’. Especially that one that just wandered aimlessly on the balcony of one of the rooms, whining about how bad his life sucked. Like he was any different from the robber that thought breaking into an old studio for whatever reason was smart. Or the kid that thought tearing up some of the rooms would be funny. Sure didn’t think it was funny when he was being devoured by the ink, that was for sure. He hated that guy and needed to remember to punt him into the nearest pit if he was ever forced back.

Alice was entirely out of the question. Her hosts former distaste for who he was supposed to be mixed with average instability in a studio populated by ink soaked in black magic, deranged musicians, screechy projectionists, dirty hobos, drug addicts, thrill-seeking teens, and a rat of a poster toon too chicken to come out of hiding. So were the false Alice and Boris. They were worse in his opinion. Up until they started talking big about finding a way to best him, then he _loved_ showing up. They— _oddly enough—_ never took him up on his silent challenge. No Boris was remotely nice, even if that one had tricked Mugman into thinking he was. They were all callous jerks that Jendy reveled in destabilizing when the mood set in.

Joey, far removed from the studio, didn’t even begin to do anything other than cling to the broken ideas his golden years spat into the world. None of them could directly hear Joey the way he could. None of them could feel the pull of his will, his demands, the way Jendy could. Joey didn’t care about anything but capturing as much of his glory days as possible. Greed crushed his morals, leading him to call out to Henry, and at first, Jendy had looked forward to either killing another or playing games with a new toy. And really, that’s all Henry was at first aside from victim. Jendy was the undisputed king of the studio, the ink demon that stalked the halls, crushing any and all who so much as sneezed at him or the cutouts. An old man, just as aged as Joey was sure to be fun to poke at. Perhaps he’d even have a cane Jendy could use to trip him or mock him with.

Henry did not, in fact, have a cane.

Except in one memorable rewind that Jendy wished wasn’t so seared into his inky brain.

All of that, all of the decades of ‘do as I say, feed the studio, it needs to eat, don’t slack, Bendy doesn’t slack, he doesn’t. Henry said he doesn’t. Don’t disobey me. Feed the studio.’ Meant one simple thing.

He was more skittish than Alice in the open. Cuphead was out there, definitely raring to rip his spine out through his neck. Henry was out there, gunning for him both literally and figuratively. Bendy was out there being a useless lump of ink like usual except for that one second he’d almost had the red jerk.

Mugman was just sitting on the bed, silently observing him now that he’d just stood there doing nothing for five or so minutes.  Jendy stared back, waiting for the tell-tale flicker of fire, a spark heralding incoming agony. Not only did nothing of that sort happen, Mugman didn’t so much as blink as he approached. One step at a time, patient, cautious, he returned to the side of the bed. The golden eyes weren’t as nice as the blue ones they’d originally had been, but Jendy had no clue how to make them come back or even ask. He wasn’t even sure how to ask for the biggest thing he wanted to try ever since seeing so many do it.

Touch was an odd thing for someone who felt nothing the ink didn’t care to relay.

Jendy knew ovens were hot. He knew freezers and cave walls were cold. He knew ink was wet, and drying ink was squidgy and slimy. He didn’t know what wood actually felt like though. Not because he couldn’t feel through the glove, because it was simply ink in a different shape and color. But because that wasn’t important to either Joey or the ink. Without Joey though? It seemed like the ink was entirely willing to indulge him on anything and everything he thought about to the best of its ability. It had been making good time bringing back up the boat even during the flowers annoying tizzy beside him.

So, as he reached out once more, intent to feel what the cloth that made up the lower half of Mugman’s outfit, he did. A bit rough, scraping against the glove on his hand that was slowly fading back to white. The golden threads were more rough than the rest of it. The blue fabric was soft, sleek, and made him wonder if that was what ‘silky smooth’ meant. The armor like stuff that made up Mugman’s top was hard, unyielding to his touch. He wondered if it was metal or something else, and carefully pulled at the edge up by Mugman’s chest, just by the spot not covered by the golden collar. It didn’t so much as creak, meaning it was something else, but he was far too unsure of something as trivial as fabric or armor to even know whether he was correct in thinking metal couldn’t flex without making noise.

The gold was polished and bright, the sapphire blue etched into it in a pattern was slick. The bandages were not quit rough, but not smooth either. It was fascinating to him and he couldn’t help but run his hands along whatever was closest, albiet hesitantly, lightly, only exploratory in nature. Far too afraid he’d trip Mugman’s ire and be set ablaze, he was mindful to watch for any twitches or changes in expression. None were to be found.

Part of him felt horrible for marring the other’s form. Removing Mugman’s mouth hadn’t been his intent, but it was the outcome, as was the ink still gently shifting along Mugman’s face and body. At one point he’d tried to sweep it off only to stain the skirt like thing the other wore.

Books were another thing on his list. He knew how to read, and the idea of learning more, maybe even enough to be able to break out of the prison Inkwell had become was tantalizing.

More bold, and desperate to finally get that thing he’d seen in the cartoons, in the mannerisms of the victims of the ink, of the other ink creatures doing it to Henry, Jendy moved until he was fully on the bed as well.

He really hoped it was the ink telling Mugman to tilt his head _slowly_ a hint to one side in a frankly creepy manner and not Mugman giving him a warning.

One thin arm lifted up, gloved hand sliding along the curve of a waist towards the back. Carefully, his other hand followed on the other side, higher up, closer to where shoulder blades would be until Jendy was finally hugging someone. He flinched hard when he felt motion behind him, only to nearly sag with relief as he realized it was simply Mugman’s own small hands reciprocating. Frail arms curled around his shoulders, a tad mechanically, but he chalked that up to the other being confused.

The ink in his peripheral vision twisted along Mugman’s face, then Mugman was truly holding Jendy back, and Jendy was _gone._ He slumped bonelessly against the other, head pressing into Mugman’s cheek. Eventually his weight caused Mugman to tip back, so he lifted the other up with ease, shifting until he was able to lay down and cuddle. Something he did with gusto, practically purring with contentment. Mugman didn’t really move more than needed, but Jendy wasn’t spontaneously combusting so he didn’t really care.

It was _nice._

He didn’t want to move from that spot, pressed against cool porcelain, soft blue fabric, sturdy white fabric, icy gold. But there was but a single thing that kept him from slipping into true bliss.

Though the deck was stacked against them, Cuphead _was_ making progress with the others on the Isle. If by some miracle he managed to get them all without Jendy’s ink crippling him, that meant he’d be at risk. Not just at risk of taking a trip to pain town though. No, at risk of losing _yet again._ Of being forced to return to the studio to dance _exactly_ how Joey’s time-addled brain demanded. Of being taken from all the prizes he’d acquired, from getting to see a new world to the one currently acting as his pillow.

Once he was done snuggling as much as possible, he would have to become a bit more _active_.

If they wanted to learn what Jendy and the ink could do when not saddled with Joey or the rigid ‘thought’ process of the studio, well… Jendy _was_ based on Bendy, and who better to put on a show than a star?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jendy, much like Cuphead and Mugman, was 'raised' by a dude who didn't really give a shit about properly teaching shit that didn't boil down to feeding the studio and feeding his dream. So the fact that he don't know what a shenti/shendyt is shouldn't really be a surprise.   
> Look y'all... Jendy is one fun mother fucker to write. and he's only gonna get better!


	16. Dipped low.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :D

The moment he was up, Cuphead was excitedly darting around, muttering to himself. To Henry, it looked like someone psyching themselves up. Henry didn’t mind, it was certainly better than seeing the toon angry.  For a good half hour, Henry had spent his time stretching, doing a little workout to limber up for what he knew was soon to be their next outing. Bendy, without a single muscle to speak of, spent his time performing for Bon Bon and Elder Kettle, animated in everything, from his glittering eyes to his grand motions as he got to especially large moments in his jokes. It seemed the more Henry encouraged him, the less fearful he got, something Henry was ecstatic about. He didn’t think he’d ever quite know what went through his own toons head, but in a way, that just made it more fun. As long as it didn’t nearly get him and Bendy killed that is.

While stretching, because by that point it was mindless for him, he’d also gotten a bit of a kick out of thinking about just how fun it would be to go back to the studio with even one of the other toons. Just picturing Bertrum losing his shit at the very sight of a walking talking Kettle, or a massive flower, was hilarious to him. Then again, if anyone asked him who he hated most in the world, aside from Joey it would be Bertrum. So it was quite plain to understand why he’d be staving off snorts and snickers via extra low pushups over petty ideas.

When Cuphead suddenly shouted, cheering something in a language none but he and his shadow knew, the rest of the group turned their focus to him.

“I have a plan!”

Now normally, hearing that would elicit good reactions. ‘I have a plan’ usually meant shenanigans were soon to come. And indeed, Henry and Bendy perked up!

Bon Bon and Elder Kettle did not.

Cagney actually turned greener around the petals, hunching lower in his spot in the shadows.

“Honey, now you know we’ve talked about this.” Bon Bon tried to sound stern, instead she sounded on the edge of ducking for cover. Her smile was wobbly. Elder Kettle didn’t even hide the fact that he took a swig of what had to have been whiskey.

“Well yeah, but my impulse control currently has a big handprint across his face and kicked three of us to the curb.” Cuphead shrugged, surprising considering how bitter he was before about that fact. “But! I have a _plan._ See, Mugs showed up after me and my Domain got real bad, so! All I gotta do is go out and get one of the real big deities! He’ll show up, and then we’ll catch him too!”

“I thought he didn’t show up until we started kicking Jendy’s teeth in.”

“Pshhh, details!” Cuphead waved a loose hand their way, cocking one hip out, eyes aglow with mischief. “We probably just didn’t see him. There’s no fire without Mugman around just like there isn’t Retribution without me!”

“I’m sorry,” Bon Bon held a hand up while her other rubbed at her temple. “Are you saying your grand plan is to trust that your brother will indeed show himself again if you throw yourself at the ink? Cuphead, darling, I love you. I do! But—”

“Besides! I bet Jendy is all high and mighty right now. He probably thinks he’s got us beat. So he’s probably gloating or something.”

====-====-====-====

“Why is there so much dust?! I’ve hit this stupid pillow for _an hour. How is it still coughing up clouds of grime!?”_

====-====-====-====

“And, do any of you have a better one?”

“Well I was going to say experiment to find what can burn the ink.” Elder Kettle deadpanned, swirling the contents of his flask pointedly.

“I was going to say get as many of the smaller deities fixed up in case he decides to come after us.” Henry tossed out. Bendy, because he was Bendy, agreed with Henry with a hearty nod. “And it’ll build the ink up more slowly. So if he doesn’t show up, we aren’t losing you to the ink.” He finished. Cuphead squinted at him, foot tapping impatiently. Then, he let out a great huff, and nodded begrudgingly. Bon Bon mouthed ‘thank you’ to Henry.

“So, who then? Sally? Beppi?”

“Chalice?”

“The root brothers?” Cuphead pressed on, staunchly ignoring Elder Kettle. “Oh! What about Rumor? She can help—”

“Chalice is good. She’d be the best suited for getting in and out of places unseen. Which means she could paint us a better picture of what’s going on everywhere else.” Bon Bon rose her voice so it was over Cupheads. Before Cuphead could respond, Cagney did.

“Cuphead, Rumor is far larger than you. Chalice is not. You can get my sister after you get Chalice if you really want to.” Haggard and strained, his weary appearance was enough to cool the small cup down. He frowned, clearly not too happy to have to see his least favorite deity.

“Are you sure Kahl wouldn’t be the best?”

“You hear that steady beat? That’s the giant robot he built, stomping around right by his scrap yard. No. Inkwell says Chalice is on Isle two.”

“If you run into Grim, run straight back here.” Bon Bon threw out, having followed their conversation while Elder Kettle hurriedly and quietly filled the two outsiders in on their next target.

“If you hear a train whistle, also run.” Elder Kettle finished, raising his voice just enough for Cuphead to hear the last part as well. Cuphead opened his mouth, likely to argue, spared one last glance at Cagney, and ultimately agreed. Elder Kettle cleared whatever he had for a throat.

“Much as it would be great to go for broke and get your brother back. It’s simply not a good idea. Please understand…”

“Bet you woulda’ said yes if Mugs had said that.”

“If Mugman had said that, he wouldn’t actually have meant it, because everything would be on fire right now, and we wouldn’t be in such a dire situation.” Elder Kettle lost the soothing note, choosing to go for blatant. It must have been something in his tone that made Cuphead go from pouting to ducking his head and gesturing to the duo who’d remained silent thus far. Bendy trot over eagerly, upbeat, mostly in hopes that it would help cheer Cuphead up as well. Henry was a tad more sedate. He had the gun slung across his back, and a couple healing potions given to him by Elder Kettle tucked into his tool belt. Come what may, shenanigans were going to happen, and if Jendy happened to show up? The Box would come into _good use._

====-====-====-====

“ _There’s no damn end! What fresh Hell is this?”_

Jendy screeched as the blanket coughed up yet another cloud of dust directly into his face.

====-====-====-====

Isle two, while not quite as decrepit as Cuphead’s first visit, was somehow twice as eerie to him. Everything was near pristine, from the stone walkways to the looming rides and various tents. Where before, it had all fallen into bitter disrepair, now, it was as if a well-loved carnival had been hit by a tsunami and—though durable enough to withstand it structurally—lost the glittering paint and gleaming lights to the waters. Or, in this case, ink. Ink was splashed _everywhere._ Splattered across walls, drenched into thick fabric, smeared along the ground in a trail following Creampuff, there wasn’t a single place it hadn’t touched.

Cuphead wasn’t all too certain whether he’d take the first trip over this one though. At least in the past he hadn’t been accosted by the many wails and groans and burbles from ink stained victims of Jendy’s assault. Behind them, the river sluggishly sloshed as the thing that used to be Goopy rolled through the thick water. Creampuff could be heard thumping huge fists into the ground as it tried to drag itself on a body near melted into soup by ink. But the one thing Cuphead listened most for—and didn’t hear—were wing beats.

Grim was still able to fly, as was Wally. And though he was sure Wally Jr. wasn’t around, he wasn’t keen on running into the child and—in turn—into Wally. After Wally Jr. was fixed up by Djimmi, it was rare to not see the child peeking out from his father’s feathery back, tinkering away at whatever Kahl or Werner offered him for a learning experience. It wouldn’t surprise those that knew Cuphead as to his reasons for not wanting to run into Wally either. Not when in his original trek, Wally had been the first to truly damage him. None had even tried since, and no mortal could even hope to bypass both his brother and the two Domains, so, down a familiar extra set of eyes, he was just about jumping at the slightest sound resembling feathers or rail thin claws picking across gravel.

As they walked, hugging walls when able, they stopped by the emporium. Originally, his Domain had dropped them off in the central areas of Isle two. The idea had been they’d have a chance to survey a bit of the isle in case their target wasn’t in her usual haunt.  They’d scrounge around a bit, confident in the natural gap keeping the coaster and Djimmi’s home just that bit further from them to keep their exploration safe. However, after discovering the bridge closest to the mausoleum was gone, the hope of stealthily avoiding any other meetups grew faint. The worst part about their situation, at least to tacticians like Henry—who liked knowing as much as possible—was that everything they could tell him could be either helpful or useless. It was clear the ink changed things. If it didn’t, as Bon Bon said, the world would be a blazing inferno of gold and Jendy would in a world of agony.

Unfortunately, that meant he couldn’t actually tell the duo following him the full gambit of what the gods could do. He currently didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if Beppi could change his appearance. He didn’t know if Djimmi would grant wishes if one was spoken within his range of hearing. There was no safe way to know if Wally could bring down massive tornadoes with enough power to shred the Isles apart. So he could tell Henry and Bendy that Rumor was the Queen of Healing amongst other things. That Sally’s stage was a physical manifestation of her Domain and any assaults on her in that building wouldn’t end well for the assailant. That Werners’ house was a field of horrors for ‘pesky pests’. That Brineybeards ship had more personality than any ship the cartoons Henry and Norman showed him. But none of that would help if it wasn’t in effect now.

What if it would have been smarter to say Sally had a mean right hook? Or that screaming out inventive ideas about cheese was the fastest way to get Werner on a mumble tangent? Hell, if he knew that Rumor was still susceptible to ‘cute Cagney stories’, she’d be the one he’d go after even though they’d told him not to. But he didn’t. And the last time they’d seen her, it hadn’t ended well at all. No deity they visited left them alone, none acted as he was used to. Even in his deepest insanity, Cagney hadn’t ever moved like something within him was pulling his very veins too and fro to make him do as it wanted. He could only hope Chalice had no strength to bring death to whatever she touched. He was immortal, but Henry? Not so much. He wasn’t sure about Bendy, and certainly wasn’t keen on finding out either.

Cuphead peered in, face going sheet-white at the great amounts of ink coating every surface. Calling out, he hoped to tempt Porkrind into a fight. If Porkrind was even in the shop, which didn’t seem to be the case based on the lack of response. Cuphead had already sworn to himself to find their adopted Uncle. Porkrind was very innovative, and his shop was home to many a fancy item. The trinket given to him during his first visit was still around his handle, giving him a steady boost of energy. If Kahl and Werner weren’t quite on the table yet, then Porkrind would be the next best bet for inventive ideas on how to make light of their situation. If Cuphead was entirely honest, he was starting to look back at the time in the studio as a nice vacation.

Giving it one more try and receiving nothing, they pressed on, treading as close to the buildings as possible. Minus Djimmi’s home. That, they avoided so much they outright ran across the sprawling walkway towards Bon Bon’s stationary home. Slipping into the large red tent shrouded everything into a dim shadow. The world was still dark, clouds thick across the sky, blocking out what might have been a morning sun if enough light was peeking through to see more than just thick shadows. It was gloomy, and then—when the curtain closed—creepy. Bendy let out a sustained squealing wheeze, basically sticking himself to Henry’s back after launching up to cling. Cuphead hissed, golden glow doing little in the shroud of black nothingness around them.

It was Henry who heard it first, a slow drag, hardly audible above the silence now crushing them. Backing up, he reached for his knife. Though far too small to do much damage, it was perfect for cutting and slicing, something he intended to do the moment he felt fabric. Another sound, like a squeaky piece of rubber, or like a bag of candies being jostled around, erupted above them. Not quite loud, but not ignorable either.

A low gurgle, a cut off choking sound, and another slow drag, and Henry was driving the knife into the thick fabric. It was heavy enough, and Henry was lucky enough to be near one of the supports to pierce the fabric straight through. Dragging the knife down, he ripped a hole into it, spilling weak light into the void.

At first, none of them really saw anything. Then, another gurgle, and Cuphead’s choked off shout directed them to the origin. A candy machine of all things, mashed into the body of a waffle. Their limbs refused to agree on the direction they wanted to go, and they laboriously inched closer yet farther from the trio. Bendy buried his face into Henry’s shoulder, staunch in muffling his building scream. Cuphead gestured for them to come back over to him as he watched the thing.

“Auntie Bon Bon is going to be so angry.” He whispered. And, as if his voice—or perhaps the name—summoned their attention, the thing was abruptly slamming thick fingers into the ground and just about sliding towards them. While it did that, something fell from the ceiling, but it was too shrouded and far away for Henry to see more than a flash of bright green. Cuphead snatched Henry’s hand, sprinting for the other side—because what he knew about Bon Bon’s numerous worshippers was that where one was, all were soon to follow.

They burst from the tent just as jelly beans began to descend, letting out tiny shrieks, tinier bodies thumping into the dirt as they made to follow, only to be cut off by the thick fabric of the tent. As the flap closed, the cries of countless jelly beans rose up, eclipsing the muffling properties of the tent, filling the air with their angry wails. Cuphead, far paler than before, ushered them on hastily.

Sure enough, wind being buffeted by heavy scales sounded above them. Cuphead didn’t look up, trusting his Domain to keep watch while he basically sprinted for the mausoleum. The moment they reached the doors, he shoved Henry—and in turn Bendy—into the building.

“See if she’s there!” He called out as he continued to run, whistling to keep Grim’s attention on him. The ground shook as the heavy beast landed, roaring with the only head not decimated. Steam poured off of his hide, black as tar from the ink, yet never truly burning off. Cuphead dipped into the shadows to avoid snapping jaws, popping back out a little ways ahead. Much as he didn’t want to leave the two, there was no way they could focus on Chalice if Grim was right outside the marble doors.

Besides, Mugman wasn’t the only one good at dodging.

====-====-====-====

“Okay, _that’s it_ , I’m going out!” Jendy threw the broken bed post he’d been using to the ground angrily, face flushed a bright grey, ink pouring into his eyes. He took a single angry stomp, locked up, and turned around to the only other occupant in the room.

“You stay here okay? I like having the upper hand…and not combusting… and hugs! But mostly not combusting.” Another pause, and he hummed, rubbing his thumb and index finger under his chin thoughtfully. “Well, you have a point, this _does_ feel a bit like a princess in a castle sorta deal. Fair enough! But! No straying from my side okay? The towns gone to the dogs I tell you. Ain’t safe for someone of your build, y’ get me? Of course, you do! Now let’s get a wiggle on.” With a wash of ink, the room was left empty.

A lone dust bunny slowly descended, landing on the blanket that had been the final nail in the coffin for Jendy’s patience.

====-====-====-====

Henry remembered that flashlight from what felt like ages ago. That near useless flashlight that would still be better than the frankly sick looking flames choking on ink yet never quite burning out. He would have thought that meant the fire was capable of eating through the ink, but no. It was simply sitting on the surface of the ink, lapping at patches of bright green coals peeking out above the ink. Bendy shakily detached himself. Part of him was frustrated that someone born in a studio filled with horrors would be so greatly affected by more horror. The rest of him pointed out that the horrors in the studio were pathetic in comparison, and he’d had time to get used to them.  So while they might have scared him his first go through, at that time, he’d been burrowed deep in the ink, a bastion of on-model perfection in a swamp of Joey’s misdeeds. On the outside, Bendipe was _causing_ the scares, thus, not affected by the workings around him of the others aiding in feeding the Studio.

Not wanting to weigh down Henry—vividly remembering how he’d caused one of Henry’s injuries earlier—he puffed up his chest, inhaling a deep breath through barely parted teeth. That breath came out in a high-pitched shriek as a face—near impossible to see—floated a scant inch in front of his own face. Piercing white disk like  eyes, hovering in a void lined by the remains of a face.  The barest hint of gold, bent up, almost resembled a malformed Halo, set over the abyss, broken, edges reaching for one another. His arms wind-milled as he shot backwards, smacking into something that squelched. The hint of a figure of a woman tilted her barely visible head, and then the tombs rattled around them.

Bendy, hopping ship, giving full control to the pieces of him far braver, looked up smoothly. He came face to face with a mottled corpse. A mottled corpse whose jaw unhinged, then let out an awful squishy suction type noise as the rotted flesh stained with ink fell off, and onto his forehead.

“I agree, this situation is pretty jaw-dropping.” He spoke. Surprisingly enough—especially to him—his voice didn’t even remotely shake. Henry answered by shooting another pair of corpses crawling from their resting places near him, and then regret it when the noise of the gun just about took out his ears.

“Son of a bitch!” He pressed one palm to an ear, checking for blood. A slight change in temperature, a cold breath, and he was moving before he could really see whether he’d damaged his ears. The ghost woman swiped her hands at him angrily, face difficult to read, but hatred having no trouble showing itself by the gleam of the floating gaze alone. He continued to move, having to squint to see her simply because her wispy frame was near invisible.

“It would have been real dandy if they’d told us what she looks like!” Henry shouted. Bendy wheezed. Neither wanted to think it was that ghost woman only to be surprised by the vase in the center springing up and proclaiming it had fooled them and it was the goddess of death. Then again, they weren’t sure who _else_ the woman could be.

Bendy brushed the jaw off his face, cleared his non-existent throat, and coughed out a weak wheeze. Disgust, debatably surprisingly enough, was a powerful motivator. Especially for a toon who’d sooner eat his own shoes than let the stringy rotten hands touch him. Powerful enough that fear got stomped into the marble quite viciously and gave him strength and more to launch across the room. So powerful was his dive that he went straight through the edge of the woman’s tail. She snapped her head his way, eyes blazing with indignation.

“Is she there?” Cuphead called out as he sprint back into the building. In response, the woman’s head rotated mechanically towards the newcomer. “Oh great! Hi Chalice!” Cuphead, apparently having no trouble seeing her, waved, even if his eyes didn’t exactly show the friendliest of emotions. She flickered fully into view, and the tombs burst open, showering those inside with shards of marble. Cuphead wasn’t far enough out to avoid a shard driving into his cheek, or another that cracked his handle. Maintaining eye contact with her, he yanked the shard in his face out, flicking it at her. She seemed to move with each flicker of the weak flames, inching ever closer to him, ignoring Bendy who threw a shard of marble at a corpse right beside her.

It must have been because he was being too cheeky, or perhaps because he was so focused on her that he simply didn’t hear the hissing from his Domain until it rose to a sharp roar. Even that wasn’t fast enough though and he found himself snatched up by heavy teeth. Cuphead barely got out a sound as he was shaken around like a rag doll by Grim. Evidently his diversion hadn’t lasted long enough.

Long ago, he’d been in a similar position, impaled by a sharp object—a talon at the time—and his thoughts then, and his thoughts now, were quite similar. Part of him was livid he was being treated like a chew toy. Another part was wondering just how hard his Domain was ranting at him that it transcended his hearing and went straight into inaudible. Yet another part wondered how embarrassed Grim was going to be when they fixed him and he told the dragon what he’d done while inked. Had he been flesh, all of that would have been directed towards a lot of cursing and pained screams. But he was porcelain, so his thoughts, growing muddier and muddier as the shaking continued, remained free of agony.

Porcelain rained down, ink slid from the drool pouring from Grim’s maw into Cuphead’s soul liquid through the impressive injury growing larger with every jerk of Grim’s head. And it was only when the ink began to pry into his body, devouring whatever it touched, dissolving his broken body with impressive ease, that pain became a thing. As if it was the ink’s desire for him to feel it, and feel nothing _but pain._ Chalice smashed Bendy into the central pillar, shrieking like a banshee, turning her wrath onto Henry when Bendy didn’t get back up. Henry tried to aim at her, but she was too close to Bendy, and a corpse got a lucky swing, forcing Henry to stumble to the side, mind dipping back into times of war, angry that it even had to go back to the horrors of the trenches and fields.

A sharp whistle, piercing, rising above Chalice’s voice, froze everything.

“Drop it.”

Grim obeyed the deep voice, and Cuphead fell five feet to the ground, body cracking so badly he couldn’t move, despite desperately wanting to as ink continued to mar his white porcelain.

“On one hand, this is _priceless._ ” A snap, just a single snap, and Chalice was writhing, dropping to the floor, clawing at the ground, jerking wildly.

“On the other, you shoulda’ _seen_ the doe eyes doll gave me! I couldn’t say no.”

Golden fire snapped at the ink, driving it out of Cuphead, chasing it away before it could fully integrate with Cuphead’s soul. But as fast as it was there, it was gone once more, staying just long enough to purge him of ink, and nothing more. Dazed and weak, Cuphead struggled to keep his eyes open as the gold of his own Domain followed up, hastily snapping pieces of his body back together. A task made more difficult due to the damage done by the ink. A shadow fell over him, and Jendy looked down, smile wide, posture lax.

“He tried to do that to me too.” He flicked a hand towards the dragon who’d started acting like Chalice, writhing and letting off choked noises. Then Bendy was launching up at him, and Jendy met the other easily, ink around him twisting. He threw Bendy into Henry and stepped back, holding his hands up in a sign of peace.

“’Ey now, I wasn’t walk’n ‘ere lookin’ for a fight! I’m on a different mission right now, but I gotta say, seein’ you lot get stomped out is some _glorious_ entertainment. Ah? One moment Doll! I’ll be right there!” He called out, but Henry had Bendy draped over his face, and Cuphead still couldn’t move, so none of them knew who he waved to. “I tell ya’ what. I’m feelin _nice._ So how’s about, _just this once_ , I lend a hand. Pick one.” One of his hands extended out towards Chalice, the other, Grim.

“What?” Cuphead’s voice shook, not quite coming from his mouth so much as from the general vicinity of his head.

“Pick one, and make it snappy. I was on my way to… relieve some _kind folks_ of their earthly possessions. They’re running late on paying tribute, an’ I intend to _collect._ So get goin before I get left with the bag because you _happened_ to find a job downstate while I was walkin by!”

“I don’t…” The only arm still attached to Cuphead’s body, even if only by the power of Cuphead’s magic, twitched.

“The lizard? Alright then.” The ink in the river rose, higher and higher until it shrouded them in shadows far too thick for the encroaching light to breech.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you tryin’ to one up me.” He squint at Bendy, wagging a finger at the seething toon snarling at him. “Real shoddy work, I gotta say. But ey! I’m a nice guy, really, I am! So, _let me give you a demonstration.”_

The ink twisted, shadows darkening further, then, the massive tower of ink slammed down onto Grim. Claws drove into the ground, digging, dragging, clinging to whatever they could as the massive form of the God of travelers and fire was hauled into the river.

“And voila! With nothing up my sleeve, nothin in my hat, I’ve made a whole dragon _disappear!_ ” Jendy dramatically pulled sleeves that hadn’t been there before to show that indeed, nothing was there, not even an arm.  “Come on Doll, that little flare up really didn’t do you any favors.” Far from the biting tone from before, when he turned his attention to whoever he spoke to, now hidden by the thick blackness ebbing around them, he spoke smoothly. Barely, in the gloom, Henry—the only one who hadn’t watched the dragon be dragged away but Jendy instead—caught sight of white and blue, then the sound of porcelain shrieking pulled his gaze to Cuphead, and he was throwing himself across the gap, potion at the ready, the only one to survive the battle.

“Back to the land of dust. Are you sure there ain’t some spiteful gremlin at work ‘ere? Just stuffing more dust into the furniture when I ain’t lookin’?” Jendy’s voice faded off into the distance, and the world returned to a dim haze. Chalice regained their focus, free from whatever Jendy had done, wailing once more, body flickering between visible and not. Shadows still clinging to their darker state, her voice was answered quite readily. A ground shaking roar, enraged hissing adding a low bass to the fierce answer, drowned her out entirely. She locked up, but didn’t have to wonder—if she even could—about what was to become of herself. Chalice was snapped up by enraged shadows, followed by the rest of them, to be carried to the observatory even as ink from Chalice sank into the waters.

====-====-====-====

“Holy sh—”

“What happened?!”

“Glue? Do we have any glue!”

“Hey, I have his hand, what do I do—oh neat, the shadow just ate it...okay.”

“Someone catch Bendy before he faints and becomes a trip hazard!”

Ten energetic minutes later, Cuphead’s body was fully repaired, aided further by potions and Cagney’s Domain. He simply remained limp, staring at a wall across the room, held tightly by a shivering Elder Kettle and a harried Bon Bon.

“We ran into Grim.” Was all he said. And though the mission was a technical success, it certainly didn’t feel that way. Especially not with the sinking feeling that Cuphead got. The one that screamed ‘they were always holding back on you. They aren’t anymore.’

====-====-=====-====

“I think… I _might_ have gone a _little_ too far with the collecting.” Jendy scratched the back of his head, a useless gesture considering he didn’t itch. Being made of numerous things meant he got the numerous traits, including rather human habits and mannerisms. Being made of ink meant he could do the motions in a way that held quite a bit more flair. And being made of magic meant he didn’t care that he didn’t itch. He just did as he pleased. Still, thoughts about his general make-up paled in comparison to the massive pile of pillows stacked clear to the ceiling, stuffed into every corner of the room, mixed with blankets and a couple mattresses to act as a buffer away from the dusty beyond saving carpet.

There might have been a curtain or two in the mix, Jendy wasn’t sure. He mostly remembered taking whatever caught his fancy while digging around in the various houses.

Eventually, he just shrugged, and flopped forward, taking great joy in how he bounced on the surface of the mattress, how the pillows plopped on top of the thing jumped, reacting to his weight. His new partner reclined on the couch, now that the bed was unreachable, and there was nowhere else to truly perch.

The ink, the magic flowing through it, just as lost as Jendy on what to do with the current state of things, had no reason to pull the strings any more than needed, and so, Jendy was left to freely bounce around, enjoying the freedom to do whatever he pleased. No demands from a script. No rants from an old man. Every once in a while, the more human parts of him dragged him back, and he stole various hugs and touches from the one now strung and bound. He’d hold the smooth porcelain hand, bring an extra strange feeling pillow or blanket up, and eagerly show it to the other.

The other, who couldn’t do anything beyond what was demanded of him. Golden eyes remained vaguely focused ahead, awaiting the next moment divine intervention would be needed for the one rediscovering one of the original pillows and coughing up a storm as clouds of dust descended on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no real reason for these taking longer aside from me being sick, and then recovering from being sick. For an added bonus to those who read this: Jendy speaking in a boston accent, and acting a bit like a mafia don, is intentional. Why? Because there are a lot--and i mean A LOT--of souls powering him. Diverse souls who had numerous reasons for entering the building. You are all now thinking of the Godfather theme springing up every time he's on screen. And then the rag-time version of it playing when things get silly.
> 
> In an alternate universe, there is a mafia don Jendy presenting a bunch of rival mobsters to an exasperated Judge Mugman like a cat presenting bird corpses. All while bailiff Cuphead speaks to don Devil over the phone with 'he's being weird again! I'm ninety percent sure there was more to this family and some of them are muttering about ink! I think he.. is that dice? I swear if you hang up for plausible deniability i'm getting every cat you own high on catnip and unleashing them into your house.'


	17. Shaken, not settled

Henry stared at Cagney, and Cagney stared at him. One flower that had to sit hunched in a definitely uncomfortable, yet sinewy way. One human turned whatever dimension Inkwell was, standing straighter than before, but coming no closer to being eye-level to the flower. The cartoonist in him took in the design, the appearance.

Though less than healthy, the bright green stem coiled and curled, sounding akin to a snake’s scales when it shifted. Darker roots scattered around, not too similar to the roots he usually saw, which were often white. Still, they acted as roots did, anchoring the gargantuan entity to a stable position. A sunny yellow face fit inside fiery orange and yellow petals, ultimately ensuring the full attention of those outside, watching from the comfort of a theater or their own homes. The long nose, the longer fingers digging into the boxes and furniture around him, all of it pointed to something that had no limits on just how he could move.

Yet here he was, boxed in, trapped. Because outside, where he’d shine most, sat spoiled, destroyed, like someone had dumped the reel into a fire. A cartoonist would have made his eyes flat black as usual, the good old pie-cut, to ease up the strain animators would have. But here, in the world, his eyes were a bright green. Though, he’d seen them shift color here or there.

The war vet in him was the reason he was there, before the deity, like a worshipper hoping to gain answers out of a rumored benevolent deity. Whether Cagney was friendly or not, Henry wished he could be sure. The flower certainly wasn’t smiling at him, but he wasn’t frowning either, just patiently waiting for whatever it is Henry was going to ask. Henry idly wondered if all the gods would be like that. If he were to sit and just _look_ at them, would they all patiently wait? Or would they recoil in annoyance, indignation.

He wondered if he’d have time to figure that out.

Instead, the war vet in him hauled the brighter of him, the lighter of him, back in. Reeling it into the murky depths of ‘survive, need to survive, don’t lose it, don’t go the way the others in our squad did, those that lived, don’t lose it’. He inhaled, taking in the soothing, pretty smell the deity let off, and cleared his throat. Cagney, in turn, moved a single vine. As it drifted closer, something grew from it, a flower, or more specifically, a honeysuckle. Cagney pointedly moved the vine closer, floral face moving in such a way to indicate a brow being arched expectantly.  

He took it, doing what he’d done as a child, practically inhaling the sweet nectar. After nodding in thanks, he started.

“So…” Henry hadn’t felt so out of place since the days of basic training. But he didn’t think Cagney would shout at him, so that was a bonus at least. “Elder Kettle gave me a couple maps of Inkwell. I was hoping you could explain more than they can.”

“Explain what?” Cagney kept his voice low, much the same as Henry had. Neither glanced over at the child sleeping the effects of the brutal battering he’d received, neither needed to.

“What I’m working with.” Henry spoke after a long pause, using a nearby table likely used to hold drinks for whoever owned the Observatory to share a drink with another across from them. Cagney hummed, but otherwise didn’t say anything else, choosing to let Henry continue. Something Henry was grateful for. He was _sick and tired_ of feeling so out of place. Feeling so reliant on one so clearly young. One who was already frayed, with his support taken from him, forced to flounder and stumble on without a steady hand to keep him afloat in his rambling brain. Fed up enough that after seeing Elder Kettle flip through a few sheets of maps, he’d gotten a semblance of an idea and asked for said maps. Now he stood before another god, with another request, and nothing to offer. That was how they worked, that much he knew.

Take and give, like the gods of old in his own world. Yet unlike them, the ones here were absolutely tangible, right before him, and perfectly willing to give, knowing they’d never receive. Cagney leaned down, grimacing with the motion, looking far more tired with that simple motion.

“I want to know of the nature Inkwell has. The places to hide, strategic vantage points, places I can use to confuse anyone who might not know as much. I learned that, in the war, if you’re outgunned, that doesn’t mean you’re outsmarted. Jendy’s got a stranglehold, and all the rest of those gods out there have us impressively outgunned.”

“Well, Inkwell isn’t the mainland, that’s for sure.” Cagney sounded pleased, far more friendly now. “Not a lot of places you can lose someone here. But I can certainly tell you about its quirks. Take a seat, you’ll need it. If you’re our only hope of keeping Cuphead safe, I’m not letting you leave until you know Inkwell like the back of your hand.”

Henry’s lips tilted up, his old knees let out a great crack as he sat, and the two got to work.

====-====-====-====

With Cuphead down and out, the only other familiar face was sitting at a tiny little table, dwarfed by a flower that Bendy knew had some serious chompers just hiding away. Sure, the flowers teeth _looked_ flat now, but he’d seen them sharp, and though they were part of Cuphead’s world, he didn’t trust many, if any of those around him at all.

It wasn’t because they’d acted suspicious, it was more…something hard to explain.

So Bendy sat on the couch, watching Bon Bon carefully monitor Cuphead’s frail little form for any signs that the grey now splotching his body was doing anything other than discolor. The shadows were of their average darkness, indicating the thing that lurked, wasn’t at the forefront of their reality at that moment. He sat, and he thought. Something he was _intimately used to._

From the beginning, since the first blink taken in a world not made for him, not ready for him, he’d sat, and thought. Jendy hadn’t. But Bendy? Hoarded but chained by the ink, he’d remained in its heart, bound to the ink machine’s center. Whatever stood for its inner world, Bendy had stayed from the beginning. All the marvelous things Henry had drawn, had brought to paper, Joey tried to bring to life. And because Joey hadn’t the creative drive, it had ended up giving the magic he used _far_ too much freedom. But that freedom allowed Bendy to split away from Jendy, become his own, and shelter himself.

To a degree, Bendy now hated that he’d done that. But it’s what his model was. _Bendy_ was a cowardly little imp of a demon, finding interesting things to entertain himself with little care to the outside effects until they proved threatening. He didn’t care that Boris was there, he wanted to have a picnic and Boris was ruining it. Then Boris was hostile, and _Bendy_ was running, fleeing for perceived safety. Bendy did the same, and now, with the pieces of the studio floating in his ink, he could readily find hatred for himself.

Had he gone out, maybe he could have been like Allison, or perhaps Boris. Near perfect models, if a bit changed by the studio. He could have been by Henry’s side, rather than forced to do as Jendy did and rely on whatever the ink let him see and do. So, not what Jendy did. Jendy didn’t seem bound by the ink. If it had any true ability to feel, it would have seen Jendy as its prized child. The perfect creation to reap all that it could give him. In the studio, there was no greater threat than Jendy for decades until Henry appeared.  Though there were hundreds and hundreds of Boris’s, and butcher gang members, even two Alices, there was only ever one _Bendy._

Jendy had decades of practice. Decades of sinking into the ink, bathing in what that made it the _ink._ Bendy knew Henry would never find the _thing_ that sat, molded in the ink machine. The _thing_ that festered in the black tar like substance, magic permeating every single drop of ink, cloying in its intensity and power. The _thing_ that made the studio what it was today. Bendy knew about the _thing,_ as did Jendy, but he didn’t think anyone else knew. No one else ever mentioned how powerful the studio was considering it was so poorly planned and built. Bendy would have told them, if he’d been _better._ Because Bendy had chosen to hide, to cower, he had _none_ of what Jendy had.

Bendy could see through the ink, _theoretically_. The cutouts could! But Bendy was not Bendipe. He had Bendipe in him, but he wasn’t Bendipe. Bendipe too, was closer to Jendy than he was Bendy. Bendipe was what Jendy would have been had Henry been the driving force behind the ink machine. Had Henry been the one the magic, the ink, the _thing_ latched onto, Bendy was sure of it.

Bendy was not Bendipe.

He _knew_ he could repair himself, had done so already, even there, in Inkwell. He _knew_ he could travel through the ink perfectly safely, that it wouldn’t ever do to him what it had done to Cuphead.

And that was it.

He’d stared at his own hands, nearly sweating with how much force he put into thoughts of changing the white gloves. He thought at first that if he could just change himself the way some cutouts could, he could get a better grasp of the ink. Maybe even get it to respond to him more readily. If he could turn his gloves black, he could tell the ink to peel away from Mugman. If he could just make them sink into his hands, show off sharp nails that he thought might be under the gloves, then he could tell the ink to remove itself from Cuphead.

But they didn’t change.

They remained pearly white, and his head remained lowered, frown dipped steeply down his face.

The worst part about it all wasn’t that every minute he sat there, he became more and more aware of just how little use he had in regards to the thing Jendy effortlessly wielded, but something else. The fact that he was _useless_. The fact that _Bendy_ was useless. Even free of the little hovel he’d hidden in, he couldn’t tell his own body to do what Jendy did mere minutes after arriving. From the studio to Inkwell, in whatever amount of time it took for Jendy to wreak havoc on Inkwell, he’d redesigned himself, settled his own ink.

Bendy couldn’t.

His ink remained firmly in its intended design.

It even began to hurt after a little while. Not in the sense Henry felt pain, but like something was stretching in him, pulling taut, threatening to snap if he prodded any further. So he’d stopped, still staring at his hands, seeing the inky splotches grow on Cuphead’s frame as Chalice was cleansed out of the corner of his eye. He almost wished he could just go back to the ink, let it devour him again so he could hide. The parts of him, now stronger after freeing himself from the depths of that horrid black void, _refused._ The parts that were far more in tune with the ink told him the ink would _never_ treat him as it did Jendy. If Bendy went into the ink, it was more likely that it would toss him back out in the worst place. It wouldn’t let him die, but it would do him no favors.

He wasn’t Jendy, he wasn’t Bendipe, and trying to be _Bendy_ had net him his current state. But Bendy shared another thing of Jendy’s.

Bendy wasn’t one thing, one person, one soul, one thought. Bendy was the ink, the magic, the cartoon, the references, the souls… He was all of that, and more. _Bendy_ was useless now. And Bendy, without any outside cartoons to know how cartoons could truly break reality and bend the world to fit a gag, a joke, a scene, wasn’t much better. _Bendy_ only feared whatever the cartoons dictated he did. Bendy feared he’d stay pinned to the dead weight, and hinder everyone more and more until he got someone killed.

And in Inkwell, there were no statues. No points of resurrection. No Studio chaining all those inside to it.

No promise of Henry’s immortality.

====-====-=====-====

“If that rat bastard hadn’t drowned my garden I’d tell you the best place to ambush would be there. I don’t know what it looks like now aside from… not great. Inkwell was never descriptive.” Cagney tapped one finger steadily against the floor, eyelids half-mast. After giving a vivid description of every good place he—and Inkwell here or there—could think of, he was at a bit of a loss. Luckily for him, and the rest who sat close to limbo, Chalice took that moment to appear, hauling herself out of the shadows, drenched and shivering and _enraged._

“ _That oily mother fu—”_

“Chalice.”

“Wh—oh! Elder Kettle… great. _Fantastic.”_

“Be _quiet_. If you wake my nephew, I swear I’ll make the ink feel like _vacation._ ” Bon Bon’s threat, spoken clearly and succinctly, was what got Chalice to snap her jaw shut and truly take in everything. Introductions were fast, her opinions and observations were faster.

“You’ve died one-hundred and seventeen times.” She stated quite flatly to Henry. She turned to Bendy, and quite tellingly, just arched both brows and tipped her head down and back in distaste. Like someone was waving something grotesquely pungent right in her face and she was actively debating how hard to smack them and which hand to use.

“Tell me how many times Jendy’s died and I’ll be more impressed.” Henry replied, leaning back in his chair, relaxed as could be. Maybe it was the nature god, far more friendly than before, hovering behind him, or perhaps it was because Henry just wasn’t one for letting odd things phase him. “Or no, studio’s kill count.”

“Well over ten thousand if that one is any indication. Congratulations on becoming a cesspool of souls.”

“Thanks!” Bendy replied, grin far too wide to be truly friendly. Finally, after eyeing them for a moment more, Chalice nodded.

“I like them. They’ll do just fine.” She nodded again, cementing her opinion, and the air grew lighter. Neither Henry nor Bendy had noticed the heavy weight until it was lifted. Neither knew just what that weight was, and neither were too keen to find out.

“We’re making plans to ruin Jendy’s day.”

“Why?” Chalice tilted her head at Elder Kettle, golden gaze perplexed. Elder Kettle in turn, tilted his own head. But it was Henry who answered.

“Well we’d go sight-seeing, but that didn’t go all that well the first time. So we figured antagonizing an antagonist would be a decent past time.” She turned her focus to him, corners of her lips dipping down.

“Surely you’re focused on escaping more than anything else.”

“What?” Now it was Cagney’s turn to speak up, his finger stopped tapping.

“What good is it to stay here?”

“I thought pessimism wasn’t your forte.” Bon Bons tone was dry.

“Oh you can’t be serious. What in the world has gotten into you? Elder Kettle, you must see the same thing I do! Right?” Elder Kettle remained silent, face solemn. So Chalice continued. “Look outside. Look at what that _thing_ did to Inkwell. You tell me what good it does to do anything other than break free and run.”  There was a tinge, a hint of an edge of frayed nerves in her voice.

“We’re free, good! But that boy is already ill with the ink, and there are those like Cala Maria. Just what do you expect to do about her and Goopy? How exactly will you keep her from the ink that will surely just pour into the ocean from the rivers, or pour from the ocean into the rivers if you choose to help Goopy? But the mainland might have a means of burning or eradicating the ink. Why stay here at all if there’s nothing to be gained?”

“Is that Chalice?” Cuphead’s voice, slurred, broke the tension building between the deities. Bon Bon brushed a cool palm across Cuphead’s cheeks, shushing him.

“It is dear, you’ve done a wonderful job, now go back to sleep.”

“Domain says she’s talkin’ funny and needs to go back for round two.” The tiny deity continued. Chalice recoiled, blue body flickering red for a moment.

“I’m not the one without a single plan.”

“Wha? We have one…” Cuphead sat up, head clinking against his shoulders as it struggled to stay afloat above his torso. “Get Mugs back, watch the ink burn, eat Bon Bon’s raspberry tarts.”

“I thought you said blueberry.”

“Did I?” Cuphead finally let out a cracking yawn, stretched out his limbs, and leaned over the arm rest to look down at the shadows, now darker than before. “What did I say?”

There was an answering rumble, then content silence, and Cuphead huffed. Bon Bon fondly shook her head as tension left her shoulders.

“Strategically speaking, leaving here is also stupid. See, back in our world we had this thing called the plague. It didn’t end well when people tried running from it. Wound up bringing the thing to other continents, it wasn’t pretty.” Henry picked up the former conversation, relaxed as could be. “I’m fairly sure that barrier is what’s keeping the inky death from all the rest of your world. But sure, if you want to spread it, by all means!” He lazily waved an arm to the door. “Door’s right there.”

Chalice scowled, then huffed, then looked bashful of all things. “I apologize…I’m lacking a clear head.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wanted to run and hide too.” Cagney offered a single shrug, equally relaxed as Henry. “I just didn’t say it in front of the kid.”

“Hey! That’s two points off, Cagney! I’m telling Mugs!”

“Two points off what?”

“Shhhh, can’t tell.” Cuphead, eyes still a bit hazed with exhaustion, squinted at a dumbfounded Cagney.

“That’s a real shame Cagney. You were three points away from Uncle status.” Elder Kettle took a hearty drink from his flask, waving it at the flower after doing so. Cagney reeled back, thunking his head on the ceiling. Chalice snickered at the nature deity, taking the small, humorous reprieve for what it was.

“But really, what _is_ the plan. Do you have anything other than Mugman as a goal? Or any fail safes?”

“Fail safes?”

“Okay.” Chalice floated closer to them, stopping only when the shadows by the couch started to rumble at her. “How do you plan on repairing Mugman?”

“Same as I did you!”

Chalice held a steady gaze with him, internal debate going on so clearly they could almost see the papers being organized in her head for the verbal beat down she was about to bestow. Then she sucked in a great breath, and let it out slowly, closing her eyes. When they opened, they were heavily focused on the other deities around Cuphead, _furious._

“I’d have thought you lot _learned_ from the last time. _Apparently not._ ” She hissed, voice layered with countless others from the sheer weight of her anger. Yet, when she turned her focus back to Cuphead, she was calm, soothing, patient.

“Have you ever wondered why you can do the things you do with him?”

“Wh..”

“The little scuffles? When he sets you alight, or when you dip him into Retribution?”

A frown, confused, curious, began to slip onto Cupheads face. The two outsiders leaned in, curious as well.

“Were I to toss Hott into the afterlife, he’d just pop back out. If Bon Bon were to be guarding a home, and Grim came stomping around, he’d be scolded where others would be smears on the ground. Cala can drag Goopy down to the deepest depths despite him being a river deity, but if she were to drag Sally, Sally would be crushed. All of their Domain’s _recognize one another._ Yours do to.” She paused, letting Cuphead digest the information.

“If Mugman set anyone else but you ablaze, he’d have to consciously control it to not hurt anyone. He doesn’t have to do that with you. It’s the same with you. You can drop him in your Domain all you want, and it won’t ever do what it would to anyone else. Do you see the problem now?”

Stubbornly, Cuphead shook his head.

 “It still hurts me though! When I was gonna drop cockroaches into his head, I got lit up and it stung something fierce!”

“And how did Wally react to the very same fire? How have any of us responded to it? The only other one to never show a negative response to the fire is my brother. So how sure are you that Retribution won’t just baby him or have any affect at all? For all you know, the moment he goes in, will be the last time you remain free of the ink.”

“Well then what do _you_ suggest?” Bon Bon snapped; teeth bared at the other woman in an ugly snarl. The shadows however, remained silent, not responding.

“Have any of you tried testing your fate against your siblings?”

“Mine’s not exactly a threat, currently…” Elder Kettle answered, calm compared to the one on the couch by Cuphead.

“Grim was devoured by the ink. And Cagney is far too big to take to Rumor.” He continued, voice quite plain. “So, its wonderful that you’ve volunteered to test out our only definite hope to free Inkwell from the ink!” And it was only after the last syllable that the maliciousness shone out. Elder Kettle didn’t hate much, but seeing his charge gain such a heartbroken expression of hopelessness was easily one of them. If Chalice wanted to play the ‘tough luck’ card, Elder Kettle would gladly spin the table and return the favor. To her credit, she scowled, crossed her arms over her chest, and tried to appear nonchalant about going back out into the open.

“Fair enough, and while we’re there, we can see about getting Sally.” She finally spoke after a minute of tense silence. “She’s less likely to stick to one solution, and we need as many options as we can get. If not her, Werner or Kahl.”

“But what if you can soothe Hott?” Cagney tossed out, brow arched skeptically. “Won’t you want to see him cleansed?” Chalice snorted rather gracelessly.

“I’m not that weak, and this building isn’t that big. Really our top goal should be getting into Hell to see how it’s faired. If it’s any better, it’d be the place to be.”

“Hott’s blocking the entrance.” Cuphead spoke up sullenly, still despondent over the idea that his sibling might not be free of the ink as quickly as everyone had hoped.

“And there’s probably a reason for that. Its best to leave him to it if that’s what he’s chosen to do despite the ink. I will only see if my presence affects him. If it does, we’ve hope that you might get your brother soothed enough to return to our side where we can try and coax the fire from him. But I can almost promise to you that Retribution will not do what it does to us, to him.”

Cuphead grumbled at her, but, after hopping off the couch and waiting for Henry and Bendy to come to stand beside him, they, along with Chalice, were gone. Bon Bon leaned back on the couch, looking far older than those in the building had ever seen.

“Sometimes I hate her.” The rosy pink woman groaned, far from regal.

“She’s got a point though…” Cagney wilted back under Bon Bon’s vicious stare.

“My boys are stronger than that.” Bon Bon stood, heels making sharp clicking noises as she strode purposefully over to the floral god. “Somewhere in that ink is Mugman, who’s just as stubborn as his brother and far more cunning. Why, I’d bet Creampuff that he’s just _waiting_ for that creature to slip up to deliver pain no soul has ever seen before.” Eyes flashing bright with warning, she only returned to the couch once Cagney shakily nodded.

After a long moment of silence, Elder Kettle spoke up. “For the record, Cuphead can be a cunning little brat too. He’s just not great at maintaining the ruse.”

“Like the time he tried to make be believe a flock of chickens were the cause for all the feathers covering my Temple that one time.” Cagney perked up. “He almost had me until I caught the wobble in his voice. Turns out it was actually a bunch of geese with a vendetta on feather pillows trying to send a message.”

“And who told you that?”

“Mugman!”

“Uh…”

“What? Wh…oh… _oh he’s good.”_

====-====-====-====

Inkwell Isle Three held a special amount of malice. Permeating from Hell’s cave, the entire isle felt heavy, threatening, _dangerous._ Whether that was Hell’s way of displaying its power and keeping the unwanted away, none but Devil would ever know, and no one had seen him or King Dice since everything went to pot.

Whether that was a good thing or not was also unknown.

Still, it wasn’t enough to chase them away, not when there was a goal, screaming out a shrill whistle as it blazed past the entrance. Chalice looked pale at the sight of her sibling. The dented in face was horrifying, and seeing him, hearing the faint notes of agony in his cries, had her vacillating between desperation to fix him and a burning desire to crush the one who’d crushed her dear brother’s face in.

Head held high, she stepped onto the grass while the others stayed on the bridge. The moment her heel touched the filthy greenish grey of the ground, the train reacted. Where it had simply been traveling in a steady circle through the mountain, it wailed out a hideous cackle, and the spirits aboard, equally deformed by the ink, began to howl. She continued to approach, side-stepping the angry swipe from an ashen T-bone.

Barely sparing a glance at the electricity that shot past her face from the blaze brothers, she stopped mere feet from the worn path in the shredded grass.

“ _Hott.”_

Her voice was soft, pained, soothing.

The train barreled towards her in response, broken teeth cracked and jagged as the jaw struggled to open, as if he intended to devour her.

“ ** _Enough.”_ **

Before he hit her, an odd break in the air appeared and he vanished into it. A moment later, he returned, chugging slowly into the clearing, steam tinged black with ink pouring off his broiling frame. He stopped before her, body letting out a grand hiss as the wheels and brakes settled.

Henry and Bendy couldn’t help but reel back from the smell of death pouring off the deity. Cuphead couldn’t help but wonder how much ink would come from Hott, whether he could risk his Domain and take both Hott and Sally despite how terrible an idea it would be. Chalice had told them Hott couldn’t stay in their Domain long, not without risking Death taking the workers aboard him. Not because it wanted to, but because outsiders didn’t belong so close to their Domain. So even if he freed Hott, there’d be nowhere for him to settle. The tunnel was drenched with ink for all they knew.

Which brought up something else. If the observatory was too small, Hell would have to be their next goal. But that meant soothing Hott, which was what Chalice was doing right then and there. Pained wheezes arose from the depths of where Hott’s face normally sat. Chalice frowned deeply, choking back a sob as she reached out towards him, shaky hands pressing against a part of him not destroyed by ink.

“My dearest brother. What has become of you? Why do you guard Hell so fiercely? I can see your carriages are far too damaged to roll properly, surely you shouldn’t be going as fast.” She cooed, brushing her hand along the blue portion of what remained of his face. The other gave off a confused, tired whine.

“No! No of course not, shhh, you’re my darling brother, I’d never let you suffer so, not ever again. Slowly, she moved towards the firebox, keeping one hand on him at all times. Once her hand brushed over the door, the train shuddered, and _everything_ burst to life. The carriages, _all of them_ , flew into a flurry of motion. Souls tore from the windows, crawling across the body, along the sides of the rattling train towards her.

Henry just about threw up at the barbaric appearance of many. He’d seen bodies blown to pieces by mortars, the train’s occupants were round two of that. If the bodies on the battlefield, torn asunder by Gatling guns and bombs and landmines, had been able to move the way those on the train did; Henry was one-hundred percent sure the war would have ended far faster simply because no one would be able to stand the sight of no-man’s land crawling with _that._

It was horrifying, it was no surprise that Bendy squealed and dove for the safety of Henry’s back. Cuphead, who’d been about to step onto the grass, reared back, face tinged green. Chalice’s eyes narrowed at them, up until the train began to move. Hott gave off a single, powerful blast of a whistle, and the dead went from charging at Chalice to fleeing back into the carriages. He vanished once more into a portal, and when he returned, he was once more charging, forcing Chalice to stagger back from the wind shear. She returned to the bridge, face stony, fists shaking, usual blue glow turned wrathful black.

“Is that enough an answer?” She choked out, not bothering to steady her voice. Frustrated, hateful rage caused it to wobble, and Henry, with Bendy latched on, took a hearty step back.

“Yeah, I just have to talk to Mugs. Hott heard you, it’s the rest that didn’t care… I can—”

“Don’t. Leave him. I don’t doubt we’ll find a way to fix him later, but I won’t have my brother trying to crunch into that tiny building with all the rest of us. He’s…” Her voice cracked, and she locked up. Unwilling to say ‘safe here’ or ‘better here’, she simply drifted off, gazing into Inkwell Isle Three with a pensive twist on her hardened features. The Goddess of death raised her hand, pointing out towards the isle. The others obeyed, turning to see what had caught her attention.

There, off in the distance, near the pier, smoke billowed up. Though the theater sat right across from them, the chance that a fire had erupted on Isle three was far more worrying. So, leaving Sally be, they dipped into the shadows, and made for the source.

====-====-====-====

“What you see before you is a _message._ A warning. Any one of youse dust bunnies get it in your filthy minds t’ go about coming at me again, it’ll be the _last_ thing you do.”

The image of Jendy standing beside a blazing inferno, holding a stick lined with marshmallows that he waved threateningly at a line of pillows that looked decades old when he wasn’t holding the stick close to the fire, was something none expected to see.

“Let this be a lesson, now if I was you, I’d be spreadin this like it was _gospel._ ” He chomped down on the marshmallows, stick and all, chewing away as the fire spat out bits of blackened fabric. Chalice, still seething from the sight of her brother, strode out, far from amused the way Henry and Bendy were. Cuphead was too focused on finding his brother to care about what Chalice was doing, believing she had the experience needed to follow through with whatever she had planned.

The moment he caught sight of her, Jendy frowned. Ink slowly began to drip down, obscuring his eyes.

“Broad, you got a lot of moxie t’ think you can just walk up on me like that.” Vocal tone low, rumble deep in his chest, he went from silly to downright threatening. Yet Chalice only narrowed her eyes, stopping a short distance from him.

“You better dry up if you don’t want to want to go for a ride.”

“What?” Cuphead whispered to Henry. Henry leaned closer, ever watchful of the scene before them.

“He said she better leave if she doesn’t want to get murdered.”

“Oh…”

“You got lucky; you oil slick. Now get back in whatever tar pit you crawled out of before I show you what your innards look like.” Chalice’s voice was equally low, equally threatening. Yet Jendy merely _grinned._

“Well now! Where’s the fun in that? But ey, I warned ya’, so Doll can’t get snippy for what I do!” He sounded almost _chipper_ about that. And when Chalice went from standing still to in front of his face, hands aglow with the very magic that had cut the life from countless others, the rest learned why.

Ink shot up and would have hit her had she not flickered back, body fading in and out of sight. When a splotch of ink landed on her arm, she didn’t hesitate to break her arm off and throw it aside. Jendy didn’t move, staring at her, grin wide, ink dripping.

“You’re out your league broad, beat it before I decide niceties ain’t in fashion anymore. Be a real shame if red robin over there had t’ clean you again, _wouldn’t it?_ ” The ink rippled around him, a puddle close to her easing closer, tendrils of shadowy ink stretching for her ghostly tail. Snarling, she flickered out of sight. Jendy returned to eating marshmallows, digging another stick up out of the ink as well as a bag of the fluffy treat. She returned to the trio’s side, body shuddering as another arm rose from her ethereal form to take the lost ones place.

“I swear when i—”

“Where’s my brother?” Cuphead called out, shadows snapping out at the ink reaching for his heels. Bendy shot a glare its way, and though it didn’t retreat, the ink didn’t come any closer.

“Why you wanna know?” Jendy answered, facing away from them.

“See now, my question was good, it’s expected, but good, yours? Dumbest thing I’ve heard today.” Cuphead retorted, stomping closer as if he intended to do what Chalice had tried and failed. Jendy heaved a great sigh and gestured with the nearly devoured stick towards a spot vaguely obscured by the pile burning away. Being in the central part of Isle three, surrounded by the various buildings all of different shades, it was easy to understand how Cuphead had missed the grey tinged white.

“Now how’s about you take a walk. I ain’t in the mood for…” Jendy drifted off as Cuphead dipped into the shadows, reappearing far closer to Mugman now. He wiped the ink from his face and arched a brow once it was free.

“Mugs?” Cuphead tried. Mugman’s golden gaze flickered his direction, then returned to the stick held loosely in one hand with a row of scorched marshmallows. Cuphead reached out, and unlike before, his hand touched the black hand print marring Mugman’s arm. When the ink on him didn’t transfer, he poked it again. This time, Mugman had a full-body shudder, and turned so he faced Cuphead, the stick fell from his hands. Henry and Bendy, who’d been trying to approach Jendy stealthily while his focus too, was on Cuphead, froze.

Slowly, Mugman’s arms rose, hands reaching up towards’ Cuphead’s face. One palm rested gently on Cuphead’s cheek, the other every so slowly slid further back, reaching…reaching… Just before his fingers could curl around Cuphead’s handle, the shadow below Cuphead let out an angered hiss, and rose. Shooting up, a heavy clawed paw like hand snatched up the frail wrist. A skull dipped in shadows coiled another hand around Cuphead, hauling him back, closer to it, while its head shot to hover a breath away from the other.

‘ _Enough of that._ ’ It hissed, twisting the arm and bearing down until Mugman was forced to lean back and bend under the pressure. Jendy’s form rippled, teeth growing sharper, ink growing darker. But before he could intervene, a shriek rose from the depths of Mugman’s shadow, and in a flash, the hippo, crocodile, lion thing was being torn away by a beast flickering between a cat and a dog with a warped, bi-pedal body, jaws clamped tight around Cuphead’s Domains’ neck. The two fell into the shadows, and Jendy launched at Cuphead, enraged.

Henry intercepted him, wrench making a hearty dent in Jendy’s face, followed by a solid kick sending Jendy up and back, over the railing. Jendy let out a pained screech, and that must have set off Mugman. He delivered a heavy kick that sent Cuphead onto the floor, skidding back, body letting out a sharp crack upon impact. Bendy tried to lunge for him, but Jendy returned with a vengeance, ink roiling along his body. Henry caught the attack sent his way by Mugman, and would have switched his hold to a more secure one to get the other off the ground had Bendy not cried out in fear as Jendy bore down on him. Mugman was kicked up and sent soaring through the air, crashing through a window, and Jendy was forced to let go of Bendy’s arm and head in order to avoid a vicious swing.

====-====-===-====

Forkington staunchly stared at his book. Though he’d read that exact page what had to be ten times now, he wasn’t catching the words any more than he had the first nine times. So he just pressed on, sure he’d get it this time. No chance that he’d ever let some odd ink ruin his relax day, no sir. He’d seen and heard many a thing go down, and, not a fighter in the least, he’d just pressed further into the comfort of his king size bed and continue to read, sweat beading on his brow.

There’d been an odd sort that had swept through at one point, stealing his curtains for some unfathomable reason, but as the odd gentleman had only glanced his way, Forkington was content to ignore it.

Those were his favorite curtains. But his top favorite thing was not dying, so the curtains, in the grand scheme of things, weren’t all _that_ much of a loss.

At one point, he heard more commotion outside, and despite the now clear view outside, he continued to read, finding Betty’s exposition of the various reasons her beau couldn’t go off to war now that she had fallen for him _fascinating._

Then something, or rather, some _one_ was crashing through his window, landing on his lap. He looked at the frail blue deity, the frail blue deity slowly sat up, hands using his leg as support. Then a bright gold gaze was focused on him, and his hands shot up, as far from the other as possible.

Weakly, pathetically by many standards, he squeaked out “Please don’t tell me I’ve lost points for this.” And for the briefest of moments, the barest hint of time, gold flickered to blue, he was given a sympathetic pat on his chest, and then the blue was gone, as was the deity entirely, back into the battle. Forkington, who’d been so looking forward to reaching ‘you may approach without fear of being set on fire’ stage, let out a relieved jumbled mess of syllables in one great breath, slumping further into the fluffy pillows.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead sat up, ire reaching a boiling point. He rose to his feet as Mugman reappeared from the shadows, tearing Bendy off the ground and sending him into Henry, away from Jendy.

“Fine.” He bit out, gold repairing his broken torso. “You want a sibling fight? You got one!”

All throughout their lives, the twins got into fights. Playfights that were more scuffles than anything, and were usually boiled down to how long until Cuphead could pin Mugman and shove dirt in his face or a bug if he had one on hand. Even as young children, he’d been stronger than Mugman, body more durable, heavier, able to outdo Mugman’s in terms of brute strength. Even as gods that remained the same. He was heavier still, stronger still, and their fights still boiled down to aggressive tag.

While Cuphead didn’t always catch Mugman, and while Mugman would _always_ retaliate later by just taking Cuphead’s head clean off his shoulders and shove it somewhere his body would struggle to find, most often, it was the brother in red who stood as the victor of their scuffles. So it stood to reason that now would be the same.

He was about to say as much, but where Mugman used to let him get in a snarky comment so he could return fire, Mugman’s frigid, glacial, _barren_ stare caught his voice. He didn’t know what the ink had done to Mugman, but he knew if he could just pin the other, and if Henry and Bendy could keep Jendy distracted, the ink would ahold of him for much longer. Besides, how hard could it be to do what he’d done for a good decade?

He gave the other a cocky grin, and the other returned it with a very slow head tilt, and a full-body shudder.

====-====-====-====

Jendy had long since put the fire out, resting his elbows on a pillow _suddenly_ devoid of dust, and his chin on his palms, watching the show with stars in his eyes. Cuphead went sailing into a mailbox, Henry was tripped and rammed into a lawn, and Bendy landed in a heap beside Jendy. Bendy wheezed, Jendy let out an adoring sigh, dopey grin on awe-struck features.

“Ain’t he something?” Jendy spoke reverently. Bendy squinted at him, ink slowly repairing the large dent on his chest.

“He’d be better if he wasn’t off-model.”

“You’d be better without a mouth, but here we are.”

“I hope he sets you on fire and it hurts.”

“Wish granted, he did that in the studio once.”

“I mean now, I bet he wasn’t near as mad at you as he is now.”

“My Doll ain’t that type.” Cuphead let out an odd squeaking noise as his arm was used to bash his own face before dirt greet his face once more. Jendy drooped even further, stars growing further in his eyes. Henry chugged down a healing potion, tossing it at Jendy, as if to show he hadn’t forgotten the other lazing about on the pillow. Jendy caught it and winged it at Bendy.

Bendy caught it with his face.

Bendy snapped and tried to claw Jendy’s eyes out.

Bendy learned what the tops of the roofs looked like after he was punt into the air by Mugman.

Anytime Cuphead’s Domain tried to join the fight, Mugman’s Domain would let out a piercing wail and retaliate. It was horrifying to see the two actively interact where they never had before. But eventually, another bottle rolled close to Mugman’s feet tripped him up, and he slipped, eyes snapping wide. Henry dove, wrapping his arms around Mugman’s upper body, locking his arms to his sides. Though the toon fought to escape, there wasn’t enough room for him to deliver anything other than short thumps rather than hard kicks.

Jendy, who’d given all his attention to Bendy, reacted _violently_. He let out an ear-piercing shriek of ‘NO! _Don’t take him from me!_ ’ and the ink _erupted._ Bendy’s own face melted, eyes blinded by a curtain of ink as his body destabilized. Cuphead choked on a scream as the ink within his body broiled, breaking pieces of his body off, making him stagger and collapse. Henry didn’t have time to move before Jendy was tearing into him. Once he had Mugman in hand, the far taller demon shot back, reemerging from the ink, clutching Mugman tightly to his heaving chest. Shivering, he _glared_ at the trio as they slowly recovered.

“ _Just what… Who the fu...”_ Jendy seethed, retreating another step, a glow of red within the void of his eyes. Carefully, he slipped Mugman into the closest ink puddle, letting the other vanish back to their current refuge. The other hadn’t escaped the inks response either, thin cracks spidering across the blue deities body, so Jendy was entirely more gentle than he’d been when retrieving the other.

“ _I was bein’ nice.”_ He finally got out through the thick, cloying ire boiling his body. “ _so **damn nice.** And you rats return the favor by trying to steal from me?!”_ He didn’t shrink, maintaining his appearance from the studio days if the appearance had been perfected rather than asymmetrical, vicious clawed nails digging into his gloveless palms.

“ _No more. You want to get the ink off your pathetic friends? Its gonna cost you.”_ With that, he sank into the ink, and Cuphead choked, ink spilling from his mouth, chest heaving as it continued to pour. Bendy shot over, Henry reached for the last healing potion on hand, and the shadows swallowed them.

Those in the observatory were getting real sick of the trio returning looking worse for wear. But the sight and sounds emerging from the pained porcelain deity eclipsed their annoyance by _leagues._

=====-====-====-====

Jendy burst from the ink and in a flurry of motion, made a mini nest of pillows where he dropped heavily into after grabbing Mugman again. Clinging to the smaller body, he huddled close, mind swirling with countless, disjointed thoughts.

He’d almost lost the biggest threat to his current stranglehold on Inkwell.

He’d almost lost the one he knew could burn away all his victories in one fell swoop.

He’d almost lost his partner, after barely having him for a few days.

He’d been playing before, getting used to the new world, treating the others as thorns in his sides. Hell, he’d even let the red annoyance purge the ink, uncaring if the other got some petty toons he’d already bested once before, twice for others. He’d had more important things to focus on, namely, getting off Inkwell. It was fun for a while, but he was bored, and wasn’t keen on finding himself in a pseudo-studio, imprisoned but not in some new world. Now though?

He wasn’t playing nice. That brat _owed_ him for his charity, and Jendy was coming to _collect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's really going on in Mugman while he's inked? He's sitting in a little circle, resting on his Domain's fluffy side, with a hand of cards held up. and he's just... "Got any threes?" and the ink spits out a card that slips into the circle. Mugman uses his heel to slide it closer, shuffles cards around, and thinks about the next card.  
> Well that's actually not what's happening, but that's the funny version.  
> Also, because i was asked what would happen if the other AU's I've created had a sudden problem with being transported to the studio, or Jendy invading their world, expect an intermission sometime soon with those two. Because i can't help myself and thought real damn hard about about that in the beginning portions of this story. I have notes on this sucker easily five pages long.


	18. Spotlight

Jendy paced back and forth, mumbling to himself. Every once in a while, he’d glance at the one he’d finally put down onto one of the pillow piles. After the scare, he’d just about melted into the floor while he’d paced and freaked out, clutching the other tightly to his chest. The other had new handprints as well as arm marks around his knees and upper arm. The sight didn’t make Jendy feel any better. But the one standing between him and total victory—at least long enough for him to get off Inkwell—was primly perched about as comfortably as could be on a mound of pillows. And that was what mattered most.

He wouldn’t care near as much about them stealing his prize if he was confident there was no way they’d keep him, fix him, _get him back_. Simply because thus far, the near angelic toon had wiped the floor with the three numerous times now with _ease._ And, by that line of thought, them trying to kidnap his doll would result in a show for him, something he was entirely fine with. Of course, after getting him back, Jendy would come in to finish things up, perhaps truly kill Henry with no studio to bring him back. But Jendy would get Mugman back. The first fellow toon to take his side of things. The one who’s fire constantly slipped out, thing in his shadow sneaking away to burn the ink from the red brat. The one who was _definitely_ none too pleased with him.

But that was fine, he had that thing, and countless souls at his disposal. Surely _at least_ one of them would know how to soothe his doll.

Until he could find how to get the other onto his side without the ink suppressing that fire, Mugman had to stay either tucked away, or right by his side. Right where he could protect the other, keep him _safe._

Jendy wanted several things now that he wasn’t chained to the studio. But if he had to narrow it down, he’d bring that number to exactly three.

The third major desire was punching Bendy. It wasn’t because he hated the other—though he wasn’t fond of the coward—it was the principle of the thing. Namely, it was hard to brag about being the preferred version when one was choking on their own ink. He did, however, find it amusing to see Bendy struggle and fail to use the ink. Honestly, he didn’t know how that worked either, but what he did know, was that when he looked at his hands, his gloves rapidly changed from pristine white to non-existent at a single whim. When he wanted to be taller, he grew taller. Sure, it was at the expense of having to wipe ink out of his face, but that was a tiny price to pay. Especially when—and he vowed he was going to do this the next they met—he could change his appearance right in front of Bendy to _really_ rub it in.

The second one was escaping Inkwell. Beautiful though it _was_ , it wasn’t anymore. That, and there was the fear that being so close to the place where the studio had opened up a portal would mean it could take him back at any point in time.  At least, as far as he could tell. He wasn’t sure. The magic that made him wasn’t exactly forthcoming in all the little secrets and nuances it had. Nor was _the thing_ lurking deeper, in the heart. _It_ hadn’t spoken since the beginning, Jendy thought it was bitter, and readily agreed. There were plenty of reasons to be bitter about the situation _the thing_ found itself in. But more than that. He wanted to _explore_ , go out and see all the things even the cartoon version of Bendy had been able to that Jendy never had. There were no forests in the studio, no towns, cities, it was all so plain. This world was freedom in the truest sense to him.

The first, most important, most desired thing, wasn’t born from a hatred of the studio. Nor was it born out of a fear. No, it was born through countless rewinds. Countless times being battered and hounded and torn into. He wanted to _win._ Just _one time_ , he wanted to win. And to a degree, he had won. He had Henry in a corner. Even with all his ingenuity and creativity, Inkwell brought about something else the studio hadn’t. Equality. Neither Henry or Jendy had a definite advantage. It was new turf, new battlegrounds. Jendy knew that, had known that the moment he got his ass handed to him by the thing in the casino. While his reasons for picking Mugman to nab hadn’t originally been focused on keeping the fire at bay, it did include that line of thought now.

There was no studio guarding their souls, locking them up and away and treating them like fancy toys. No studio guaranteeing neither of them would die. Granted, Jendy was absolutely certain he’d never die, not without a _lot_ of work. If there was one benefit to feeding the studio, it was that it, in turn, fed him. Bendy too benefitted from it, but he was acting like a cowardly lump of ink, so Jendy was confident he wasn’t aware he could have his head crushed in and still be fine. The ink would replace it, as it did to the cutouts, as it did to him. But Henry only had one soul, his own. Which meant if he got axed, that might be it. The only way he’d come back is if the ink itself decided he couldn’t die. And with how readily it responded to him, he fairly confident it wouldn’t pull the nigh immortal card on Henry.

When he got out, and it _would be when_ , he’d take Mugman with him. His doll, his _victory._ His ultimate show of achieving what wouldn’t ever have happened in the studio. He’d be free to do whatever he pleased, and he wouldn’t have to fear going in alone. He’d never fear the biting, numbing months upon months of nothing but empty actions played out simply because the studio demanded it, Joey demanded it. Fears of sitting in the ink, waiting for something, _anything,_ stirring the building awake, bringing its need to protect the past up and allowing him to be free. No, he’d have someone at his side. Someone who wasn’t coerced into worshipping him the way Sammy was.

He still blamed Joey for that, because he sure as hell never wanted someone ruining the fun of hunting intruders. It was weird, and made it _really_ uncomfortable to go anywhere near the music department.

He’d have a partner, and he wasn’t going to give the other up. Not until he was sure the other simply _couldn’t_ want to leave him.

But before he’d have that, he needed to get off Inkwell. And to do that, he had to find someone who knew what was trapping them, and how to break it.

What none of them seemed to understand, or at least, not blatantly get, was that Jendy didn’t tell, and couldn’t force, those in the ink to do as he pleased. If Norman wanted to tear his head off, the only thing stopping him was Jendy. For the most part, the ink and studio were passive and would wait until he was about to destabilize and collapse before doing anything to help him. The studio was bound to Joey, and what Joey planned out, the studio enforced to the best of its ability. The ink, vastly different, vastly _colder_ , would carry him away when it decided enough was enough. Neither of them stopped Henrys wrath, simply cleaned it up. And thank to the souls in him, he knew that, though he shouldn’t, pain was eminent for as long as he stayed anywhere near Henry. All that meant, was that he needed someone not inked. Someone not driven insane by whatever the hell the ink did.

And he couldn’t ask Mugman, his doll didn’t have a mouth, and hadn’t verbally spoken since losing it. That was another thing on his list to fix. He loved the idea of having banter the way Henry did with the ink creatures he’d dragged out of insanity. So it’d have to be someone else. The only people he knew were normal were those he’d yet to visit, and those in the observatory. But they had guard dogs. He was absolutely sure if he went after them, they’d not only kick his ass, but they’d get Mugman. Henry always seemed stronger when he wasn’t alone. There were too many factors to consider, he needed to reduce the number.

Before he’d start planning that, he figured he’d explore Inkwell some more. Perhaps he’d missed a deity, or perhaps there was a book. He spared one last glance the frail figure on the pillows, dutifully informed him he’d be back soon, and left for the place the ink knew had at least one of those things

====-====-====-====

Cuphead sat huddled on the small sink, grumpily staring out at nothing. Ink slid down his chin, tinged red from his soul liquid, it made it impossible to open his mouth without gushing the foul tasting stuff all over the floor. His Domain had rumbled something about expecting no help from Mugman’s Domain, not until it forgave Cuphead’s for ‘laying a hand on my child’.  When asked how long that would take, his Domain had asked him whether Mugman had forgiven him for the time he’d dropped a handful of bugs into his soul liquid. That alone had Cuphead silently climbing into the sink, the only place that the ink could go without fear of hurting anyone else. And there he’d sat for a solid hour now, pitifully looking at the older deities, yet not really looking at them.

Cagney had tried making it better, dropping mint leaves into his soul liquid. That had just turned the disgusting ink minty. Something that Cuphead decided was infinity worse. Bon Bon tried honey from her home. That had thickened the ink, and briefly he’d feared it was too thick for his soul to continue purging, so after that no one had done anything. His body was a dingy grey, his tongue was constantly assaulted by the acrid taste of rubber ink, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do.

Jendy hadn’t lied when he told them he’d been nice.

He feared how much worse it would get, but then, with how miserable he currently was, he feared more that Mugman’s Domain was angry enough to let him fall the same as those outside before it did anything. Though, he was fairly certain the only reason it had done anything at all thus far was because it had broken free of whatever was binding Mugman, even if it was temporary. It could very well be waiting for him to gain another deity, or perhaps fall into an ink puddle, before deciding to fight enough to free itself. He could tell as much simply based on how the fire acted. He got the sinking feeling Mugman had nothing to do with his Domain. That he was drowned out by the ink, and the only thing the ink couldn’t shove into a pile of misery was something that had to focus on Mugman’s safety above all else.

His own Domain had gone from lazily prodding at the ink within Retribution, testing what it could do against the stuff, to fixing him. It had to, or Cuphead was one-hundred percent sure he’d have cracked apart a while ago.

That was another thing that now hindered their more robust plans. With every move Cuphead made, the ink ground into his body, cracking it. It hadn’t done that before, so he was entirely sure it was Jendy’s way of _really_ rubbing it in. He could only hope his brother wasn’t in as much misery, but then, his brother wasn’t acting normal, so for all Cuphead knew, the ink had crushed him or drowned him out of his own mind.

Everyone had gone silent upon their return. Or they had until Henry explained what had happened. Then Bon Bon all but lit up with frazzled rage.

“Have you lost your mind?! Do you—Elder Kettle are you hearing th—I can’t believe what you’ve just told me. There-“ She sucked in a sharp breath, ranting under it in the next exhale, and it was Cagney who spoke up.

“You’re a mortal. Mortals don’t ever lay their hands aggressively on us unless they want to feel the wrath of our siblings. If you’d actually truly damaged Mugman, it don’t matter how friendly he sees you, Cuphead would have gone after _you._ It’s dangerous is what Bon Bon is trying to say.”

“That would have been good to know.” Elder Kettle flinched back at his response, shooting a glance towards Cuphead who had just forlornly stared at the floor as ink spilled out of his mouth.

“Indeed,” He cleared a non-existent throat before continuing, “It’s a powerful reaction that we have no control over, or very little.” Henry, body a walking ball of tired pain, nodded, eyes narrowing briefly in thought.

Henry had limped over to the couch, gratefully accepting the potions to fix up his aches and pains. Bendy had curled up, staring at his hands with such a hard, angry expression, it chased everyone else away. But Cuphead _hated_ silence. Silence was many things, and none of them often good. In his childhood, silence meant an angry brother refusing to talk to him. It meant Mugman wasn’t going to entertain his antics that day. Silence later on meant his brother was off on an Isle full of hostile, insane gods while he was stuck alone in an otherwise empty house. Then it meant the constant fear that he’d find his sibling broken or caged after he too had arrived on Inkwell. Cuphead _did not like silence._ And just because he couldn’t open his mouth, didn’t mean he _couldn’t talk_.

“We need to find somewhere else.” His voice rang out, though his mouth didn’t move. No dedicated vocal cords meant his soul projected his voice. It just happened to be his mouth, mostly since that was what looked most normal. Sure enough, Bendy just about leapt to the ceiling at the sudden sound of his voice. Henry snapped to face him, then cringed and cursed while rubbing his neck. The other deities—minus Chalice for obvious reasons—looked his way, hopeful for what he guessed was a sign that he was better.

He wasn’t. But if he sat in silence anymore, he was going to go out and see how many deities he could get mad just to hear _something_ other than despondent silence.

“Where though?” Chalice responded, understanding what he was doing simply because she shared the same traits he had.

“Somewhere that can handle more than this. I think only a few of the smaller gods will fit in here before it gets too cramped. And at this rate I think Cagney’s going to get a permanent hunch.” Cagney squinted at him, but there was no heat to his ire. Not when another thick wave of ink forced Cuphead to open his mouth. Once it was out, he closed it again, turned on the sink, and watched the water swirl it down the drain. Turning it off, he turned to Elder Kettle. Perhaps it was because of habit, being raised by the ancient god, but Cuphead was too miserable to care to think about something trivial. Elder Kettle, maybe responding to that ingrained habit, coughed into his hand, rested his hands on his cane, and hummed, thinking over what he’d give for an answer.

“It can’t be Hell. I don’t like how nothing has come from there. King Dice and Devil have a soft spot for Mugman, and seeing the rest of us be miserable and stupid.”

“Let’s be fair, they’d have come out to make fun of us all a long time ago if they were fine. So either Hell’s got them on lock down, or that tar stain got to them.”

“I can check how it is.” Chalice raised her hand, eyes gazing towards the ground. “But depending on how bad it is, we’ll need a plan B.”

“The theater.”

Everyone shifted their focus to Elder Kettle, varying expressions crossing their faces. The outsiders weren’t sure what that meant.

“We cannot stay in here, Cuphead is correct. That fellow out there knows we’re here. And though normally I’d say the safest place is Hell, the second-best place especially with Djimmi being down and out, is Sally’s Theater.”

“It _is_ her Domain’s physical manifestation…” Bon Bon tilted her head down, brows furrowed in thought.

“What’s that mean?” Bendy spoke up, confused. Cuphead pointed down.

“See that? That’s my Domain.” From the shadows dutifully rose the thing that had prevented Mugman from harming Cuphead, had guarded Cuphead earlier on, and had appeared every now and again. Golden eyes stared at them, but not for long, clearly deciding they weren’t worth its attention. “He’s physically here. You could poke him if you wanted to.” It squinted at them, and no one rose to take him up on that statement. “but you can’t poke Elder Kettles, or Cagney’s. Not all of us have Domains like mine. Sally is one of them, but hers decided it wanted to be her theater.”

“ _This_ is my Domain.” The moment the last syllable cleared Elder Kettle’s mouth, the air around everyone intensified, growing heavy, _weighted_. Then it was gone, leaving the air staticky and thick. “Bon Bon’s is in those dishes you ate. Cagney’s is in the honeysuckle and mint. Ours isn’t physically locked to one set form. Cuphead’s could be considered both Retribution and that form you see next to him. Mugman’s, hopefully you’ve only seen the shadow. Sally’s is just beyond the doors to her theater. The moment you step into that building, you’re at her mercy.” He paused to let them soak the new knowledge in, then pressed on.

“I’ve no doubt that should you walk into that theater it will gladly show you exactly what mistake you’ve made. But the reverse of that is it can be whatever it wants. If there’s a place that can house the whole of Inkwell’s denizens, it’s her theater. That, and its antics might be enough to have chased Jendy away, and if that’s true, it’s far safer than we are here.”

“But you’ll have to get to Sally first if you want it to do what we need. She’s the only one that can command it. It doesn’t even answer to Beppi.”

“Great, we were planning on getting her anyway.” Cuphead gingerly crawled out of the sink, lips twisting into a grimace, ink bubbling out thickly. His body lit up gold as countless cracks and scraping noises burst out in a cacophony. “Fair warning,” He ignored his body’s protests, spitting out a glob of ink into the sink, “She’s weird.” With that, ten potions were shoved their way and the shadows under Henry and Bendy devoured them, and the trio was off.

Chalice left not a moment later, sparing a single, worried glance their way.

It was quiet once more, a tense silence that no child was going to break. Then, “I’m not getting a hunched back, am I?”

“Cagney, really?”

“What? For all I know that ink stuff messed me up! I feel creaky and old! I feel like Kettle.”

“Sass me like that again and the next thing you’ll feel a cane to the face.”

====-====-====-====

The shadows spit them out right in front of the theater, clearly indicating no time was to be wasted exploring Isle Three or tempting fate. Cuphead staggered, hands tightly clutching the sides of his head, shoulders hiking up as inky soul liquid spilled out the side of his head, over the rim. Henry stabilized him gently, allowing the other to lean on him briefly while he regained his bearings. After a few moments, Cuphead weakly nodded, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision. Bendy grabbed the ends of Henry’s shirt and followed along behind, deep frown growing deeper the longer he watched Cuphead.

The deep, pitch-black void behind the doors to the theater only intensified his nerves, but Cuphead simply pulled the door open. Briefly, a hint of gold skittered along the handle, and as the door opened it let out a groan. Walking into the shadowed entrance, they came up to the ticket counter. The place was barren of all life, lights dark except for a lone light dimly flickering above the central portion of the counter. As the doors clicked closed behind them, the entire building seemed to shudder, dust raining from above.

Cuphead stared deadpan up at the ceiling, in no mood for theatrics. Trodding over to the doors that lead into the main portion of the building, he yanked it open as well, as if stating how little he cared about what the place thought of him and the other two being there. Frankly he was more surprised than annoyed, having thought it would read him and his Domain and gladly welcome them.

He _knew_ what the theater looked like when it was cheerful. This wasn’t it. If anything, it radiated the same warning it had when he first arrived. The other two followed, Henry getting a sense that whatever made up the theater knew they were there and was making a decision. He wasn’t keen on staying long enough for it to make one that might not be to their favor. Bendy shuddered at the creeping sensation rolling down his back, peering shakily out into the massive room.

Though the building didn’t look like much from the outside, inside it was a different story. Dingy and dark, foreboding and forlorn, he couldn’t imagine anything merry playing on the stage lit only by a string of lights along the edge of it. In the shadows, eyes unhindered by natural barriers, Bendy could see out into the dark, grimacing at the countless bones sitting in the chairs, dressed up lavishly in clothing from all manner of time periods. As they got closer to the stage, the skulls appeared to turn more and more in their direction, yet Bendy never saw them move. He was _sure_ that massive bird skeleton had been focused ahead, But now it stared down its beak at them all, and he was getting _nervous._ The biggest issue was a distinct lack of Ink despite seeing it practically everywhere else, even just outside the doors.

As they approached the stage, whispers arose, barely a hint on the wind, growing into definite hushed tones, surrounding them with voices that should have been silenced by death long ago. Amongst them was a harried, nervous voice that—unlike the others—grew louder the closer they got. After Henry helped the two of them up, being helped up in turn by Bendy, the whispers fell silent once more.

“What are _you_ doing here?!”

Bendy shrieked, nearly knocking Henry back off the stage after jumping clear up to cling to Henry’s face. Cuphead snatched the edge of Henry’s shirt and yanked him forward, countering Bendy’s accidental push back and pulling him further onto the stage.

“Helping. What e…” Cuphead’s voice trailed off. Across the stage, illuminated by the lights slowly flickering on above them, as if responding to their presence on stage, stood what could only be described as a wooden puppet. The thing looked oddly like Cuphead with spots of Mugman here or there. It was holding something piggy-back style.

“Oh…” Cuphead’s voice came out far weaker than before.

It took a moment, but once enough light was on them, they could all recognize the limp form of what looked like wooden replica of Mugman. A face entirely devoid of expression, eyes drawn half-lidded, it didn’t so much as twitch even though the one carrying it was so full of movement and motion. Though, it did have one hand tightly clenched around an arm carrying it, grip steady and unyielding despite the jostling.

“Puphead? What happened to him?” Asked the youngest deity. The puppet frowned at him; eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What happened to you?”

“I swear, I don’t care how much Mugs likes you, I’ll eat you right now if you—”

“Where is he? Replimug stopped moving a while ago and he hasn’t responded to anything, and the only reason I can think he’d act like this is if something happened to Mugman.”

“He’s with that guys’ evil version.” Cuphead loosely gestured to Bendy who’s pie-cut eyes flicked one way, then his direction, as if startled to be brought into the conversation. Then again, he’d been fully focused on the puppet and doll.

“Good going, brother of the year.” Puphead deadpanned, displeasure evident. Cuphead narrowed his own eyes at the other, taking a step towards the puppet. The stage creaked, boards shivering under their feet. Henry got a sinking feeling in his chest, even if he couldn’t exactly see why. Everything was normal, exactly as it used to be, there were no new threats as far as he could see.

“Get out!” Puphead snapped, not nearly as calm as before.

“We’re here to fix—”

“I know what you’re here for, but it doesn’t care! And if you get stuck in here then no one is going to be able to help Mugman.” Painted eyes shifted towards the one draped on his back.

“I’m _working_ on that part, I just need to clean up the others. You’d know if you ever went off-stage.”

“Uh, Cuphead? I don’t—” Bendy took a step forward, nervous as could be.

The exact second his foot cleared that tiny distance forward, towards the other, and in turn, towards the puppet and doll, the theater _shrieked._ The curtains swept down, wrapping around a terrified Puphead and Replimug, dragging them back and up into the depths of backstage. The lights burst, brightening to the point of blinding, forcing everyone to close their eyes. When the shriek ended, when the lights let off, they all opened their eyes.

====-=====-====-====

Jendy skimmed through another book, head resting on Mugman’s lap as he scoured the pages. He’d been hopeful at first. At first, all the books in that tiny house had been written in a foreign language, impossible for him to read. Out of nowhere however, they’d shifted, becoming perfectly understandable. He’d arched his brows, impressed enough to give a little clap. Then he’d gone through all the rooms, using the ink to find where every single book he might get answers from could be.

After acquiring a healthy stack, he returned, not willing to leave his doll for long. Popping candy from that weird castle into his mouth, his razor-sharp teeth sheered through the sweet treat.

“Y’know. I’m not sure when I’d need t’ know how to turn pumpkin soup into chicken noodle, but if ya think I ain’t trying this on that bacon soup, you don’t know me well enough.” He popped another sweet into his mouth. A third found its way in after he’d held it up to Mugman, offering it to the other before realizing he had no mouth. The hearty blush that had bloomed across his face was the strongest he could ever remember blushing, and to shoddily cover it up, he’d popped that one in as well.

Tossing the book aside, deciding it had nothing useful, he closed his eyes, and _listened._ The ink whispered, carrying countless voices that _dared not_ raise their voices to him. Well, most. Ink splattered in a drain, gave him something different. He listened for another five minutes, whatever made up a heart in his chest beating rapidly as excitement curled up, choking him. Reforming so he was face first in Mugman’s lap, he pushed himself up, glee curling a _nasty grin across his face._

“Doll, I gotta make a stop. Got some _errands_ to _observe_.” He leaned close, and golden eyes stared steadfast—empty—back. With a flourish, he was gone.

====-====-====-====

The ink was not like the things it brought to life. It had human souls, but not an ounce of human component. There were no warm emotions that stirred up whenever it pulled the one in its tight grip correctly, bringing a smile to what many would call its child. There was no rage when the one peeling it away from the new souls freed them. There was nothing really. It wasn’t that it didn’t care, it just didn’t know how to feel, and in _that_ regard, it didn’t care. There was no use for being annoyed it was losing souls. There was no use for being pleased it had pristine control over the unique soul—albeit not over the thing lurking in the souls shadow.

That wasn’t to say it didn’t understand how emotions worked.

Oh no, it knew _quite well_.

It’s original host knew _exactly_ how to _use_ emotions for an array of needs.

It knew how to terrorize and brutalize the one chosen by its preferred child. It knew how to dig into the others on the isle, force them from its preferred child, punish them for ignoring its warnings. However pathetic and weak the warnings were. While it didn’t care, it _knew._

And that wasn’t to say it didn’t have desires all its own. It did, plenty, same as the preferred child and pristine child. It wanted to give. It wanted to hear its preferred child’s wishes and grant them, over and over until he could want for nothing else. It cared little for the pristine child, but him and its preferred child were _important._ It _wouldn’t let them just die._

Thus far, prying at the magic, foreign and hostile, did little in regards to freeing up the way to the mainland. The magic simply refused to agree to it, fought it even, wrathful for all the things the ink had done. But the ink knew worrying was pointless.

So instead, it focused most of its effort on enforcing its control, and listening, learning, coming to know more. It knew the unique soul was wanted, desired as a prize, a trophy, a companion, and so, it controlled the unique soul to be just that. It couldn’t drown the soul in agony, in insanity, as it did the others, that would ruin the soul. Something it knew would go against what its preferred child wanted. Something it didn’t care to do. Though that wasn’t the only thing it didn’t currently care for.

It didn’t care for the pristine child’s pitiful demands. To it, the demands were weak, brought from a weak, false passion the ink did not care for. Pristine he may have been, but that was it. It would wait to see what else the pristine child would do, whether he too, would _learn_ , come to know, like its preferred child did. It wasn’t capable nor did it care to feel impatient, he could take all the time he needed. It had taken the preferred child countless hours, days, months, _years._ It wondered, because it didn’t know, what the pristine child would want, what he would desire.

As flickers of heat rose higher, it knew to _push_ , and a porcelain arm shattered. The heat dissipated, a howl rang out amongst the countless voices, it returned to watching, observing. The new place was not the studio, where parts of it were left. Bound by threads of magic that could never break, it didn’t mind, nor did the studio. Neither saw any point to, or rather, the studio was too base to know how.

Though, if there was one thing that could _irk it_ , make the one who held it originally react however much dead memories could, it would be the _prodding._ It didn’t care for the land poking at it, so it burned, using the heat brought up by the unique soul to sear the land. The ocean tried to get what it knew could be disdainfully described as fussy. It crushed the oceans preferred children, until the water receded, fleeing so forcefully it looked painful. The unique soul tried once, but unlike the land or water, it was far softer, less demanding, more questioning. The ink didn’t care for it, and gave it a taste, a _hint_ , of what it was holding back from the unique soul. The other soul, one not desired, also tried, but it was waiting. It knew it could release insanity, utterly annihilate the intruder, but that wasn’t what its preferred child desired. And so it held back, the empty mockery of dispassion bubbling away in the ink.

There was, however, one unique being.

Unique not in its spot in its preferred childs future, but its requests. It didn’t want to know, it wanted to have, to use. It didn’t care for what the ink held, it wanted what the ink could do. The ink, didn’t originally know how to handle that. How to handle a new outside power demanding it give what it was over.  But then, it got an idea. Really, the idea sprouted from both it and the unique being. It wanted to protect its own preferred child, and the ink knew its preferred child needed things that required distractions.

And so, taking from it, taking the pieces it offered in return, it gave what the unique being wanted, and had it been able to, it would have cackled. Instead, it chose to bask in the knowledge that this would be its first masterpiece in the new world.

====-=====-====-====

No longer on the wide-open stage, they were in a hallway.

Bendy’s jaw dropped.

Cuphead groaned, head dropping from his shoulders into his hands where he coughed out a scream of annoyance.

Henry stepped forward, wooden floor creaking beneath his weight. Carefully, disbelievingly, he continued, following the short hallway out. His hand brushed across the wall, across poster paper on the walls, stuck fast to the pale, smooth plaster. Coming out of the hall, he looked to his left, and there was another hall sandwiched by two doors. The smell of ink “graced” his nose, but he was numb to the scent. In front of him, a projector flickered empty light onto a blank patch of wall, right by a cardboard cutout. To his right was a smaller hallway, and a sign perched above three turning projector wheels taking up the full rest of the wall.

Joey Drew Studios.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole time i was writing i was thinking "its gonna be shorter than the others but that's cool, i've got the next part in the works, we good." But nope!   
> So, if things aren't clear, Jendy is made up of around four major things. Souls, the magic/thing in the ink, the pages and intent from Henry's art, and, of course, ink. Joeys desires are his driving force while in the studio. Joey controlled him, enforced his actions. But they aren't his motivations and without Joey to enforce them, they just disintegrated. His motivations, desires, stem from the things making him up, leaving him a patchwork of thoughts and actions that are helterskelter at best. Bendy too, has this makeup, minus Joey's part. Jendy's human part wants comfort, countless souls murdered in an array of horrifying ways desire nothing more than the thing they haven't had since death. Many of them didn't even get it in life. So to have a porcelain teddy bear is the best fucking thing ever to them. His ink side and his henry/"bendy" side just want to fuckin win and avoid more pain. The magic part of him is what makes all that he does far darker than it really has any right to be.  
> But see, Bendy has that stuff too...so.... :) 
> 
> In the funny alternate land where the ink is a lovely parasite, Mugs is "so he dumped bugs in my head one time, well, recently, he's done it a lot, so if you could just let me punch him for that...thanks!"


	19. Theatrical Release

Jendy wasn’t one to fib if it wouldn’t end up being funny. And right now, standing in a room full of tense, terrified toons? It wouldn’t be funny to lie that he was just about _preening_. He’d made quite the entrance, with ink still spouting like a fountain from the sink behind him. Though it had missed all of them, the ink was close enough that none of them could move.

“I feel that we haven’t properly met yet.” He clasped his hands behind his back, remaining beside the ink fountain. It wasn’t because he was scared they’d do something, it was simply because he felt more dramatic that way. The woman in the frilly gown scowled, and looked as though she’d love nothing more than to flay him and wear whatever made for his skin as a pelt. The old looking fellow he’d first met when arriving sat calm on the sofa. Every once in a while, the magic within him would prod at the magic saturating the air, and it would hiss at him. Every once in a while, it would prod back, and his would lash out in return. Part of Jendy wished he could control it, mostly because he would tell it to wait until the last second to tear into the foreign magic exactly how he knew it could.

The flower sat hunched, all cute-faced and dainty looking. He was fairly certain that was the flowers default appearance, that, or it thought it was cute. And sure, it might be, if Jendy hadn’t had the cutest doll on earth and beyond waiting for him back at the temporary home. He let the ink spiral out, brushing a breath away from all of them, threat clear.

“And see, I’m not a fan of that. I prefer it when my victims know who to curse as they die. Names currently Jendy, but it’s gone through some phases. As I’m not particular about keeping a name what doesn’t suit me? Jendy is what it’ll stay.” He paused, acting as if he expected them to respond in kind. Instead, all he got was silence.

His smile grew.

“So here’s what’s going to happen if none of you want to be making a short walk off a long pier in the foreseeable future. I want off this rock. Nothin’ personal, it’s been a real treat so far. But I ain’t keen on stayin’ in one place. You free spirits, I’m sure, will agree.” The ink snapped up at the newcomer as she phased back into his view. The woman he’d broken the face of reared back and away, only saved by her own reflexes and the tearing off of another limb.

His smile turned into a grin.

“Youse give me what I want, and I don’t do to you what I did to the fat lizard and the frogs.” He’d spoken rather lightly thus far, but now, he spoke with a low, rumbling tone, a deep tenor that rattled the nearby trinkets sitting on the shelves, amplified by the many voices in the ink.

“Inkwell and Hell control that barrier. We can do nothing, and neither can you.” The kettle replied, ever calm despite the ink coiling up his cane. Jendy rocked back on his heels, ink beginning to drip into his eyes as he hummed lightly.

“Humor me here, this rock likes you, don’t it?” He kicked one foot down, and the ink rippled, cracking the floor, chewing through concrete down into the ground. The flower grew far less vibrant, leaf hands digging into the boxes he’d been leaning on. “If I can’t get off this place, then I’ll do what I really should have done.” The lights above them cracked, devoured by the ink, leaving all but a few to illuminate what the outside light couldn’t. “ _Looks like I gots an infestation to wipe out._ ” The ink snapped forward, eager to do as Jendy desired, and as it coiled around the ghostly woman, as it rose to smother the woman in the gown, the old man on the sofa, and the flower, another whisper caught his ear.

Everything froze, the building finished rattling under the combined pressure of so many things all at once built up within it.  Slowly, oh so slowly, his expression changed as feet walked across boards giving off a near perfect replication of an all too familiar squeak.

His grin turned _nasty._

“I tell you what. I’m feelin… _generous”_ His voice rolled around the word. Made it drip with cold, cruel mockery. “I got some _new_ business to look into. If the answer changes when I come back? I won’t use your remains t’ feed my ink. Capice?” He didn’t wait for them to respond. Instead, he called back the ink, pulling it to him once more, leaving the floor destroyed, and a shadow of a stain where it had touched. Stepping into the ink as it slid back towards the sink, he vanished.

Bon Bon collapsed onto the floor, pressing shaking hands to her face, chest heaving in the tight bindings of her gown. Chalice rubbed at the stain on her lower body, growing harried the longer nothing happened. Cagney drooped, mumbling into the boxes. Elder Kettle sniffed, made a noise like he was clearing his throat, and sniffed once more.

“I’m frankly disappointed that the only insult he could come up with for Grim is ‘fat lizard’. Hott’s come up with better.”

It was the way he spoke, relaxed, yet disappointment lining it, that gave it the effectiveness he’d been hoping for. Bon Bon wiped the running mascara from her face, wet laugh spilling from her strained throat.

“I’ve come up with better. And he had nothing for Ribby or Croaks.”

“Next time he comes around, I’m cracking bee puns.” Cagney spoke up, voice not quite as muffled as he lifted his head clear of the wood.

“I’m going to start listing past embarrassing moments the souls in him have had. See how he fares knowing he’s got a soul that almost died after thinking lighting his shaving cream on fire would speed up the shaving process.” Chalice’s voice shook, but the manic gleam in her eye blazed strong and steady.

“How were you so calm?” The deity of death lifted her head, finally sick of getting nowhere with the stain. As it wasn’t growing, she decided panicking about it wouldn’t help anyway, and left it at that. She instead wanted to know how Elder Kettle did what he’d done earlier.

“Simple! If he devours me, I’m going to endeavor to be so grandly annoying he’ll regret it. I’m metal, I’ll just bang on my own body if I get to keep in in there.” Elder Kettler replied, quite plainly in fact, wiggling his mustache so the metal scraped just enough to be obvious.

“Oh I ain’t got vocal cords, I’m just going to do that scream, that really annoying one.”

“Neither do I, I’ll poorly harmonize.”

“Go team.” Bon Bon deadpanned, waving an imaginary flag, even if her painted lips no longer shook out of fear, but a desire to suppress a laugh.

====-====-====-====

Bendy poked at the cutout, narrowing his eyes in deep thought.

“Henry, why didn’t you tell me I look fat like this?” He finally called out, twisting to face the human who had been staring at the sign silently for a solid five minutes.

“I thought it was cute.” Henry muttered, eyes glazed in thought. “How flammable do you think bacon soup is?”

“This isn’t the studio. Setting it on fire only makes it angry.” Cuphead spoke, keeping his mouth sealed shut, eye twitching as the stream of ink simply kept rolling down his chin. “Sally’s theater is worse. I’d take the studio over this place any day.”

“How bad is it? It looks just like the studio, ain’t nothin different about it.” Bendy chirped, “Except maybe it adding a couple extra pounds to my stunning likeness. Was I this fat in the studio?”

“Retribution doesn’t work here. I can’t pull us out, and we can’t leave until the show ends. I don’t know how well it’ll replicate everything, but… I swear this is why she’s my least favorite.”

“The show? So we have to do what we did in the studio?”

“If the theater is doing what it usually does when it hates you, probably. The only hope we have is finding Sally and getting the theater to let us go long enough for me to bring her into Retribution and fix her. Because that’s what I’m doing you antiquated, washed up hovel!” He shouted the last part out to the surrounding walls. The walls didn’t answer. Cuphead grumbled as best he could without being able to move his mouth.

Henry wondered if he looked just as senile when he did the same thing. Then he wondered if he was going to stop doing that or just embrace it. Since it was Henry, the answer was, of course, embrace it.

“Well, if it’s just another round of fun, there’s still a lot we can do. I’m not opposed to showing this place what I put the studio through if that’s what it wants.” With that, Henry started back into the building, going to the left, where he knew his desk should be.

It was mostly to see how accurate the place was, and the other two must have understood because they followed him not a moment later.

Sure enough, everything was exactly how it was, down to the squeaky floorboard directly under the stool. He had to give it to the place, if he hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought they’d been taken back to the studio itself. He looked for differences anyway, anything to prove they weren’t where it seemed, but nothing stood out of place. Especially not with his memory being fresh as could be, without  a hint of haze.

Well, that wasn’t entirely correct. If there was one thing different about the place, it had to be the feeling of being watched. Before, at the studio, he’d feel eyes on him on occasion, whenever he came into range of a cutout for instance, but other than that, he never felt like he was being scrutinized. Here, he did, and he got the distinct impression the audience from before wasn’t near as dead as it appeared.

But if there was one thing Henry was, it was vindictive. After that, it was funny—no matter what Aunt Lydia said while shoveling potato salad out of her new crazy hair-do. Then, after that, it was adaptable. He had to be, Aunt Lydia had a nasty right hook, made all the worse by ‘experimental’ potato salad covering her fists.

So, going back down the other hallway, he silently vowed to make the place feel just as much regret as the studio. No one kept a Stein locked up without questioning their own sanity within twenty-four hours.

====-====-====-====

“I swear, the things I’d do for roller skates right about now.”

“Here.”

“Wh…Thanks Bendy!”

Henry didn’t ask where Bendy got them, nor did he ask how they were a perfect fit for him. He simply strapped them on, plucked both toons up, and wheeled off towards the ink machine, ready for the next merry-hell-go-round go around again.

====-====-====-====

As the machine rose, Henry stuck his hand under his shirt, in his armpit, and squeaked an armpit fart rendition of ave maria as the machine rose.

Cuphead snort ink out his nose.

Henry felt a bit bad.

====-====-====-====

Upon gaining access to the rest of the first floor, the trio decided to split up. Well aware that the beginning was always safest, and, not wanting to be in the building any longer than necessary, they figured it was the…not quite wisest…most _efficient_ method. There were six things to find, three of them, and an entire world full of annoyed spite to be doing menial tasks.

Though, if Bendy was being honest, being able to trot around the studio again, however fake it was, was soothing. It was his home after all, his birthplace.

One thing he quickly noted however, was that, no matter how hard he reached for the cutouts, not a one of them responded. It was as if they were simple cardboard cutouts rather than the links and ties he and Jendy shared most closely to the studio as a whole. To test his theory, he brought a hammer out, took a swing, and shattered the next one he came across. The second it hit, things tipped right into the land of ‘aw shit’. The cutout splattered rather than shattered, raining ink down on him and melting away into the floor and walls. The ink that hit him was readily absorbed, but instead of the usual cool nod, it _laughed_.

Bendy turned ten shades lighter, practically levitating away from the impact zone.

“Ouch, I thought you of all people would know how rude that is!”

Bendy shrieked, slamming his head on the ceiling as he leapt in fright. Winging around, he came face to face with Jendy. Jendy, who looked from the splat on the ceiling to him, to the air between them and the ceiling, and back at him, with arched brows.

“Nice.”

“You ain’t supposed to be here yet!” Bendy hissed, once more glad the ink didn’t force him to experience pain longer than a few seconds, just enough for him to rub the sore spot and be annoyed. Jendy kept his brows arched high, black line pristine where it had been melted and sloppy before. His hands were behind his back, his bowtie was crooked, and his grin was sharp as ever.

“Turns out, this place don’t mind key players… _improvising_. ‘Sides, I got boring things to do out there.” He lazily waved a hand in what seemed to be a random direction. Bendy’s eyes narrowed, pie-cut slits on his scowling face. Jendy answered by widening his own smile, parting his teeth enough for the gleaming, sharp lines to shine under the sepia lights.

“Jokes on you,” Bendy crossed his arms, hoping to channel enough of Bendipe to appear as collected as Jendy was. “You’re stuck here now too.”

“I sure hope I ain’t as much a dumbass as you are.” The response, though spoken in a sleek, smooth voice, grated on the other. “How’d you think I got in if the shows already started? My part ain’t so stationary if you’ll recall. Which, I’m hoping you ain’t got the memory to go along with the brains of a goldfish you so clearly pack in there.”

Bendy bristled, ink along his back and shoulders rolling under his building ire.

“You know, you got a lot of nerve, talkin like yer above me.” Jendy drawled after Bendy’s only response was silent malcontent. “Like you didn’t _gleefully_ join in on helpin me slaughter the countless morons that wandered in.” He rocked back on his heels, ink rippling, form shifting, growing. “Or is it, you don’t like knowin I don’t look like _this_ no more?” Bendy took a step back, involuntarily, and he tried to force his feet to return to their previous position, but it was if his nerves had cemented his feet down. Jendy’s grin widened, and he shrank from his old studio form to a perfect replica of the one they both wore the face of. He laced his fingers under his chin, saccharine sweet smile dimpling his bright, soft grey tinged cheeks.

“Ain’t it great? Like lookin’ in a mirror,” He bat nonexistent lashes, cute expression slowly being edged off his face by a far darker replica, even if his physical appearance never changed, and he continued, “except the mirror is _better_ _than you’ll ever be_.”

Bendy snapped, lashing out at the other, loathing the snap-quick dodge the other made to avoid it. Jendy’s chosen appearance returned, sharper lines and edges reappearing.

“Big talk comin’ from the creators reject!”

“Which creator we talkin here, the admittedly fun one? Or the angry old guy what got a tinge of instability about him? Because we have both.”

“Now I know I didn’t just hear that.I swear to every deity here if you’re telling me Joey and I are technically your parents, I will speed run the next studio tour, get to Joey, and castrate him with a weed whacker.” Both toons turned towards the newcomer. Henry stood there, ink pot in one hand, wrench in the other.  “Do you know how much child support he owes me if that’s the case? Or no, would I owe him?”

Jendy cackled, sinking away into the floor before Henry could get within range. Bendy scowled at the floor, ink still bristled.

“And another thing, that means Boris is all Joeys kid. And Alice is… Susie’s and Allison’s…and Joeys? I have no clue who thought her character up honestly. Oh and the butcher gang!” Henry fell silent, scratching the side of his head with the wrench. “Man…Joey got a lot of child support to make up for.” Slowly, the scowl soothed, and the ink smoothed, and Bendy was cooled back to a simmering distaste.

Remembering the mission, he proudly displayed the book and the reel. As neither was too sure on how they were going to find Cuphead, they returned to the sacrificial trinket room, and there, leaning on one of the pillars, greyer than ever, sat the once white toon.

He looked utterly miserable, eyes glassy and fogged. His chest rattled audibly with each weak intake. Once his mind recognized them though, he lifted himself back up, relying heavily on the pedestal. “One done, switch time I guess?” He spoke, and despite his frail, sickly appearance, his voice was steady as ever. He held up the squeaky toy, giving it a hearty squeeze, mind drifting to far happier times of giant squeaks and plans for squeaky domination.

Neither interrupted him, choosing to place their items down quietly. The fact that he was still going despite looking just as bad as the many inked gods still out there impressed them more than almost anything else. Even so, Henry more feared the mad dash he knew the studio had them do for the exit so they could fall. He feared that Cuphead would be far too frail to take being jostled about when Henry sprint for the millionth time. He’d taken off the roller skates by now, in preparation. Ink was murder on wheels, no matter how powerful his leg muscles and determination were. Bendy feared the inevitable signs of insanity the ink would surely drive the toon to.  It was a matter of time at this point, as it had been far too long since golden fire had cleared the other up.

Cuphead wasn’t much for pity, so, tossing the toy onto the shelf, he mentally marked yet another thing to try enticing Mugman to react to. Anything to soothe the ruffled feathers of his inked brother would be welcome to try at this point. His Domain silently drifted through murky waters, bitter, growing angrier and angrier the longer its child suffered. The pained howls echoing through Retribution, heard only by its fellow Domain, tamed the rage, tamping it down, reminding the creature that its child wasn’t the only one in agony.

====-====-====-====

Now, Henry _knew_ this was the moment Bendipe popped his adorable little face out. Henry _knew_ that Jendy chose to take that up the previous run, and as such, he rolled his shoulders, feeling the cold line of the shotgun settle against his back.

Nothing happened.

No one, no single thing popped out to tease them, play with them, and two of the three not dazed by ink letting the countless voices filter through more and more, grew _tense._ Especially when no Bendipe was to be found in the spot the cutout normally sat. In fact, no cutouts had really moved. Not even the one that never stopped trying to perfect its hide and seek abilities.

The switch was flipped.

Nothing happened.

Henry sucked in a great breath through his nose, letting it out in a steady sigh. It was good to know the place currently playing a part was just as dramatic as the real thing. They returned to the main room, and turned the power on.  Henry carried Cuphead for most of the trip.

Nothing happened once all too familiar rumbling filled the world around them. The lights went dark as the energy hog proceeded to suck all power on no less than five electrical grids—or however many grids there were around Inkwell. At least, that’s what happened in Henry’s mind, he didn’t know if the theater needed power for what he could only fathom was a prop to it. Either way, the start of the game was upon them, and no one was as ecstatic as before.

Finally, as they were heading down the halls, approaching the ink machine, something changed. Cuphead perked up ever so slightly, shadow rippling like water under him. A sound, very much so like the sound porcelain made when it broke, barely heard above the energy guzzling bitch of back-alley splatter made of gears disowned by their metallic families simply by association with the machine snapped out ahead of them.

A howl erupted, mixed with the angry yowl of a cat.

And the world darkened.

‘ _Oh.’_ Cuphead’s shadow sounded impressed and enraged both at the same time. The others around him were more horrified they actually heard it speak more than anything else. The thing that had gone after Cuphead’s Domain after it had laid a hand on Mugman tore out of the hall, charging straight for them, leaving deep gouges in the floor as impossibly heavy claws shredded everything their razor edges touched. Both Henry and Bendy threw themselves back. Henry reached for Cuphead, but the thing was on the slight toon by then. It’s void black body slammed into Cuphead, and the two braced for impact. Only, there was none. Instead, blooming golden fire sparked. Never fully erupting into an inferno, but when the shadow vanished, Cuphead was pristine once more.

‘ _Mercy. Now **run**_ **.** ’

Neither needed to be told twice, and while Cuphead struggled to recover from the sudden clarity, Henry snatched him up, hauled Bendy up, and as Jendy finally made his appearance, he _ran._ The shadow snapped at his heels, joining Jendy in his manic chase. Everything was moving far too fast for Henry or the other two to look for blue and white amongst the flooding black and sepia. Jendy’s cackles followed him through the halls, and if Henry wasn’t so focused on keeping a steady pace, he’d be rattling off insult after insult.

He did, however, have enough breath to call Jendy the shitty end of a trench shovel as the floor opened up and the three of them tumbled down.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead had been whispering thanks into the shadows for a good minute now. Whatever the theater wanted, it wasn’t the trio broken in pieces, so the fall, despite looking long, had only lasted a few seconds. It felt like everything had shifted around them, as if the set was changing. Henry still wound up landing hardest out of all of them. He currently sat whispering thanks to the healing potion as his pains settled and his aches ceased.

Bendy, the only one with nothing to whisper to, explored. The broken hall was once more broken, the coffins once more lined everywhere awkwardly, and slowly, Bendy felt pieces of Bendipe rise. Rise enough that the fearful, tense shivers rolling down his inky spine died off.

He’d never felt more glad to feel like a cutout in his _life._

“Now that I’m thinking about it, there’s no reason for these things to be here.” He started, catching the attention of the other two. “They weren’t upstairs, they aren’t really anywhere else down lower, give or take a few spots. What’s the point of them? I can safely say the bodies just get eaten by the ink!”

“They’re a sign this place can have a coffin fit.” Henry spoke up. Cuphead burst into a fit of laughter. Bendy’s eyes sparkled, bright smile aimed at his dear creator.

“Shame we don’t have medicine.” Cuphead got out between chuckles.

“Course we do! My nan always said the best cure for a cough was a swift punch in the throat. Well that and whiskey mixed with heroin, but I don’t have either of those.”

As if the theater had been listening, the world around them gave off a grand roar, the lights went out, and when they returned, all were on a beach.

It wasn’t Inkwell’s beaches.

There was a pirate ship, and piers, and off in the distance, a rather frantic looking giant treasure chest. On top of that treasure chest, sat someone Henry hadn’t seen in far too long. As the thing sprint by, squealing in horror and pain, above it all, the glorious voice of a song writer boomed out.

“FOR THE SYMPHONIES!” Sammy, in his inky form, called to the heavens as he rode by. Piano strings cut into the beast he sat on, sawing further up towards him with each frantic motion. Bendy felt the odd urge to run away, something readily quelled as Henry shot past him and Cuphead, following after Sammy faster than Bendy had ever seen him move except when Bendipe was in danger. The two toons shot a glance at one another, and sprinted after Henry and the panicked chest.

Behind them, creatures sprang up, oddly focused on Bendy, lunging for him. Bendy bit back a squeak that wanted to escape as Cuphead’s hand lit up and sounds of snapping gunfire followed closely by a blazing spray of red magic eradicated the creatures. Cuphead seemed to rely on his shadow to keep his aim true, eyes a neon gold.

“GLORY AWAITS!” Sammy cackled, yanking up on the strings spitefully. Henry called out to him, and Sammy, mind clear, memories fresh, spite roaring in his nonexistent ears, reacted. His head snapped back, body twisting, pulling the strings further.

“Henry!”

“Sammy!”

“I caught a dumbass!”

“It’s ugly but grand!”

“One moment! I gotta—” There were screams, strings being used for things in places they never should, and Bendy covered Cuphead’s eyes, jaw unhinged from horrified shock. The creatures that had been chasing them witnessed it all, the lot of them either hauling it away from the gore zone or destabilizing into puddles of fear tinged ink. Henry gave off a sniffle of pride. As Sammy—dismounted now that the thing was reduced to mushy, glittery scraps—dusted his pants off, he was tackled. Inky strength kicked in, and he managed to keep up on his two feet, clinging to Henry just as fervently as Henry clung onto him.

“This place went to shit Henry.” Sammy muttered into Henry’s shoulder. The very shoulder that shook. Whether that was from the hardly suppressed crying or the laughter, he couldn’t tell and he didn’t care.

“It’s always been shit, it just ramped up the bullshit to eleven.” The two fell silent. One basking in memories, solidifying them, baking them into his very being so he’d _never_ die as he had to the ink demon again. The other basking in the magnificent feeling of seeing a friend not seen in what felt like ages. The other two let him, poking at the chest. At one point, Cuphead found a few coins and hastily scooped them up, eyes gleaming.

“What?” He looked at the gold pieces dropping into his shadow and Bendy’s mildly judgmental squint.

“Finders’ keepers! Sides, its dead, not like it’s gonna use them. Way I see it, I’m really just helping myself to the scenery the stage is setting.” A few moments later, he tried again, hastily. “Look, there’s thing I do that annoys my brother and I wanna see if doing it will work, but I need these to do that.”

Bendy would have said something had another treasure chest not dropped in, barely avoiding crushing Henry and Sammy. The taller two of the quartet silently broke from their hug, looked up at the creature, and both—even if one didn’t have visible eyes— _squinted._

Round two was so brutal, so horrifying, the world pulled them into the void of shadows before they could deal the _merciful_ final blow. Henry used that to prove the theater was just as merciless as they were, and judgy buildings should look in the mirror before having the audience unseen gasp and retch.

Back in the studio, things were different once more. Gone were the coffins, replaced by a sea of ink. Sammy, close enough and fast enough, caught Cuphead before he splashed in. Whether it was instinct or not, no one knew, but before Sammy could drop him, Henry was hastily spitting out introductions while spinning the valve to drain what had to be the whole of the music department.

“Sammy, meet Cuphead, he’s on our side, don’t let him touch ink. Also, that’s Bendy. No, Bendipe was not where he usually was when I checked.”

“Oh so you have two free hands?”

“And a shit ton of spite.”

“Goodie!” Sammy put Cuphead down far more gently than he would have earlier, now well aware Cuphead was on Henry’s good list, causing any harm to the toon would amount to wearing a shirt that had arrows pointing to his nipples and declaring ‘relocate me’ in bold print below. He peered at Bendy, tilting his head ever so slowly. Bendy followed suit.

“You don’t got a worship fetish like the assclown version of you does, do you?”

“No.”

“You aren’t going to try and get me to call you lord, or sacrifice hobos off the street to you all while calling them sheep?”

“Nah.”

“Fantastic.” And that was that. Sammy didn’t even question Cuphead, figuring he’d see the toon in action and would decide whether Cuphead was any level as crazy as the usual gang that way. Cuphead, as if understanding that, red eyes flickering gold, only observed him for a few moments before trotting on after Henry. Whenever they hit ink again, Henry would go forward, muttering angrily the whole time. He’d practically rip the valve open, grumble on his way back, and usher the others forward. Sammy, feeling quite awkward having two toons following behind him like ducklings, wound up taking the lead eventually.

“I’m made of ink, don’t think it matters if I get covered in more of the stuff. Speaking of, somethings off about it. It’s not as bitter and weird. I haven’t heard _one_ awkward Latin phrase since getting back here.” Henry, thinking back on all that had happened, hummed as he thought the best way to sum things up.

“Studio got desperate. Real desperate, and now we’re here.” He gestured around, as if that was all he needed to explain. Sammy, being Sammy, and knowing Henry, nodded, completely understanding that the studio wasn’t what it was before, and that he should be on his guard. Finally, they got to a door blocked off by boards, a door that had been submerged for however long time worked in the theater-made studio.

“Who gon’ spend time hammering boards under pitch black ink like that’s gonna be in _any_ _way_ productive?”

“What are we calling the pointy-spine dinosaur ass gimp suit wearing bitch of life now?”

“Jendy.”

“A bit lacking this time, not as fun, but to answer, what _else_ is he going to do? He offed the one in here that kissed his squeaky ass. _Unwillingly might I add!”_

“You have a very fair point.”

“I wanna break the boards!”

“You go right ahead Bendy, here, have the axe!”

“Henry, he looks like a five-year-old, you can’t just give a five-year-old an axe!”

“Nonsense, Bendy is however old he needs to be for things to get funny.”

“Fine but if he hits me with the axe I’m risking the nipple relocation and knocking his head off.”

====-====-====-====

As it turned out, giving a demonically inclined inky toon an axe was leagues more efficient and unnerving than literally anyone else currently in the group could have been. Bendy gleefully cackled while he swung the weapon. The axe, as if responding to him, changed, going from a plain wooden one to a gleaming, stainless steel one, easily cleaving through the boards like they was made of wood fairy tears and chipmunk fur. Even Cuphead hovered closer to Henry, brows arched high as their new wood-chipper made lightning quick work of the boards covering the hall.

Beyond the door, things returned vaguely to what they had been originally. Black magic circle humming away in the center of the floor, coffins periodically shifting, pained groans and weak scratching following suit every once in a while, Henry getting hit by ink fumes and pitching to the side… all in all, a slightly more unnerving rendition of the old set up.

Henry’s face was fanned, Cuphead, feeling much better, shoved the human’s upper half into a portal that struggled to stay open long enough for crystal clear air to clear out his lungs. From the rattling, the tense features, the green tinge to white porcelain, there wasn’t going to be many more of those. Still, the few breaths were plenty, and Henry was sure his lungs would get used to the ink again.

As they passed by the mini shrine, Sammy picked the banjo up, claiming he wanted some measure of helping out if any fights happened. Now, Henry knew Sammy was plenty capable of putting on the hurt with or without weaponry, but if Sammy wanted the banjo, Henry wasn’t going to tease him. Then again, considering the way Henry had used the strings…and the neck…and basically _all_ of the instrument, perhaps it was more Sammy’s way of getting over past traumas. Either way, Henry didn’t remark.

As they sludged through the ink flooded hallway, with Cuphead hitching a ride on Henry’s shoulder and Bendy being held under the arms and away from Sammy’s body, by Sammy, the quartet got a small surprise. Small, because everyone knew about the copy lurking floors below. But ‘Sammy’—“Hammy, it’s Hammy, he’s half of what Sammy is, and twice as dramatic.” “Twice? Twice! You _insult me_!” trudged by, ignoring their antics mechanically.

Bendy squirmed, baring his teeth when Sammy tried to hold on. Taking the hint, Sammy dropped him flat out. Bendy landed lightly, tapping through the ink rapidly to chase after Hammy.

“Henry, the cutouts aren’t the studio’s cutouts.” He called to the trio finally making their way out of the ink. “I can’t see through them, but that probably means Jendy can’t either.”

“Hey, it’s the door that’s gotta have those switches…” Cuphead drifted off as Henry tore the panel off, digging around the wires, wrinkles etched into his fierce features as he ‘corrected’ the ‘issue’. The door groaned, and as if the theater was spiting them, it took twice as long for the door to lift fully. It got to the point where Cuphead, Sammy, and Bendy huddled around a soup can.

“I wonder if it’s actually full of soup.” Cuphead muttered, shaking the can, listening to the sloshing noise. Whether it was soup or whatever the theater shoved in there, none could tell without opening the can. Something Sammy offered to do.

By tossing the can up, and swinging the axe like a baseball bat. The can burst, showering the three in what could only be actual forty-some-odd old soup contents. Cuphead gagged, hacking out pieces of bacon that had landed in his soul liquid. Bendy shrieked at the soup that had nailed his eyes, Sammy stood, arms, torso, and face dripping with bacon grease and self-loathing.  

Henry clapped.

====-====-====-====

Henry played the recorder, further impressed that it actually played and was exactly what the true studio version was. Sammy couldn’t _exactly_ glare at him—no visible eyes and all that—but _damn_ if he didn’t try.

“Should have taken a mop covered in ink and shoved it into Joeys face. Or shoved Joeys face into an ink puddle, like you would a dog after it makes a mess on the carpet.” Henry spoke lightly.

“I feel like this was around the time I started getting high off ink fumes, But I tell you what, when I get the chance, I’m doing that.”

Now, as they’d been listening, the two toons had been exploring. Bendy, memory serving him perfectly, flipped the switch. Bendy, memory being a fickle bitch, forgot that flipping the switch by the flooded stairs triggered searchers to spring up. Searchers, acting their part, swung a hand at Henry and Sammy, the two standing right at ground zero.

Sammy slowly, jerkily, twitched his head down, empty face stopping once it was angled at the closest searcher. And then, in a way only the ink could see and understand, thus, allowing the searcher to, Sammy _smiled_.

====-====-====-====

Sammy got it now, he understood why Henry was so brutal to the searchers. It was cathartic in a way to skin an ink creature. Sure, he broke the banjo, but its pieces got good use elsewhere, relocated in places he knew they should _never_ go. Henry too, swept through like a hurricane of hellbent violence. The two toons stayed out of it. Cuphead would have joined hands-on, but he didn’t have the buffer of flames anymore, and the ink was no longer indifferent to him as it had been in the studio. With it being actively hostile, he was best suited to stay near Bendy, relying on Bendy’s presence to scare away any searchers that got too close. He used the Gatling gun when he could though, not willing to be entirely useless.

Bendy, Bendipe bursting through him, took on a familiar—yet not, it was disorienting to wear a new appearance when, thus far, no attempts to change had ever worked—warped appearance. Ink bleeding down, eyes turning manic, _vicious_. The searchers bubbled out an ‘oh hell no’ and went into the ‘loving’ embrace of the taller two ripping the souls new ones.

By the end of it, the outside audience was green around fleshless edges and the theater was _giddy_.

====-====-====-====

“I have half a mind to talk to Mr. Drew about all this. But then again, I have to admit, Mr. Drew has his own peculiarities.”

“Oh man, the days when Norman was passive-aggressive polite.”

Sammy heaved a sigh, looking off towards the blank screen forlornly, “Now he’s just aggressively aggressive.”

“Is no one going to ask the guy who made the thing we’re going to have to get around why he made it?”

“Kid…Cup… Whatever, the first rule of this place is if it ain’t needlessly complex, it ain’t the studio. You can bet your straw I was high as hell about that time.”

“But Hell’s low…”

Sammy’s masks’ eyes narrowed. “I see that gleam in your eye you little shit.”

====-====-====-====

“I don’t recall installing an ink fountain instead of a window for my office.”

“It was clearly when you were drugged to the gills.”

“Henry?”

“Yes Sammy?”

“Kids good, real good.”

“Yes Sammy.”

====-====-====-====

Ten horribly dented waste baskets later—and no one _wasn’t_ suspicious that the waste baskets were just being replaced when they looked away—keys in hand, it was time to get the code. Sammy wheezed into his hands as the code was described. Henry took the chance to tease, as all good friends would.

“This sounds like a shitty song.”

A weaker wheeze.

“How can we sing a shit song when we don’t have a singer?”

A frustrated wheeze.

“How can we sing if we’re supposed to make the instruments sound off? That’s not singing, Sammy.”

An exasperated wheeze.

“How many cutouts do you think we can get into that side room?” Cuphead whispered to Bendy. Bendy hummed, Henry perked up, and Sammy took his chance to smash the tape.

The next ten minutes would be full of Cuphead and Henry finding new, faster ways up and down from the projector booth to the music room. Bendy and Sammy kept count, with one standing in the booth, the other standing just outside the room.

The theater wasn’t the studio, as such, it took great joy in the enthusiasm the quartet showed off, and continued to let them run the show. Even as cutouts began to spill out of the booth and fill more and more of the stage.

Of course, once done with that, and once the valve was hit, once the declaration that a second one was still needed, things went back to less than fun. Bendy wound up having to shove Cuphead into a corner, ink rippling across his form as if it was reaching for a new appearance, something to better protect the vulnerable one. Whatever it had been trying to do failed. Not in that Cuphead got hit, but rather, it just never appeared. Bendy was left feeling ill, ink beading on his head like sweat. But Cuphead was safe—if a bit put off to be shoved aside and ‘guarded’—so Bendy didn’t mind the tight feeling as much.

It was nice to be back on top if one were to ask Bendy. It was _grand_ to be _useful_. Not ruining fights and making life dangerous for the two who’d been on Inkwell with him. And sure, a vast majority of that stemmed from the fact that Sammy was there. And to Sammy, the ink was laughably ineffective. Especially with Henry’s tough love keeping his soul and mind free and clear of anything the ink could try. Bendy was able to stand back and do what his cutout side had always done, stay still, act as a barrier, and _frighten._

The searchers were removed from existence, and Hammy observed them. He must have thought he was being intimidating.

Then Sammy was winging the piano at him. As in, the entire piano. Lifted it straight off the ground with a battle cry, and launched it like a missile at him.

Surprisingly, it actually hit. Perhaps because Hammy was as stunned as everyone else at the display. No one would really ever know. Not when the only one who knew got his upper body crushed by a piano landing on it.

“Play me a song _now,_ you oily _wench_.” Sammy hissed, and even the mask he wore was glaring at the inky splot on the wall. Henry gave a tearful nod of approval. Something that had Sammy’s mask beaming once more, and they were off. The place had more for them, and Sammy feared if they lingered, Jendy would do to the others what he’d done to Sammy. To pass the time getting to the second valve, Sammy played little tunes on the violin that had survived the battle. And if he got a bit taller, held himself higher, when Cuphead cheerfully clapped, asking for more, no one else really held it against him.

====-====-====-====

“Now I didn’t ask before. Because I was being nice. But what was with the toilet in the sanctuary?”

“How else was I going to stand precariously on something when inspiration hit and shout to the heavens I had ideas? Stools and chairs are cliché and you know it.”

“First of all, I used my stool to tell people I had ideas, you rude—”

“Henry, you scoot around on the chair, made an ungodly scraping noise every time you moved, not with the chair mind you, but with your mouth! Then you’d tell the terrified animation department their future free time was numbered, then you would depict your idea all while making everyone think they were about to witness their sleep deprived boss eat floor any second, all without ever getting out of the chair.”

“You were right, Sammy’s a lot of fun.”

Bendy simply grinned at Cuphead, cheeks flushed with pride as his creator and his creators dear friend continued to entertain them all with silly stories and songs from an ever-smooth violin.

====-====-====-====

Down the stairs, into the infirmary still heavily drenched with ink—all except the pristine bed, Henry _still_ hated that fact enough to have Sammy and Bendy roll all over it just to spite whoever had kept that bed clean. The searcher took a swing at Cuphead, got Gatling gun bullets to the face followed by a premium head removal service courtesy of a very irate Henry, and then all was calm once more.

“Oh right, the valve is gone.”

“I got this.”

Henry went down further, into the pipe, and then learned that he did, in fact, not have this.

Before, the thing guarding the valve was a little blob wearing a cute hat. The heavily breathing behemoth clenching the valve in its teeth did not only didn’t have a hat, it didn’t have a problem taking a swing at Henry either. Its fist dented the metal walls of the pipe, clearly indicating just how bad it would be to be hit by the thing.

Now perhaps it was out of an ingrained habit from constantly having a little cutout in hand. But when Henry dodged that swing, his mind associated the swing with all those before it that had landed hits on Bendipe. It was close enough, fast enough, and at just the right height that if he’d had Bendipe, the cutout would be broken by now. Which, really was all that Henry needed to tip his mind into ‘mama bears take note of what I’m about to do to you’ territory.

The shotgun got some solid use, followed by the Gatling gun when it tried escaping, clearly not expecting its monstrous form to have zero effect on the obvious _true_ demon coming for its head.

A few searchers who witnessed the murder of their super searcher tearfully waved the soul off as it was freed. Then one of them fainted when that soul was grabbed, dragged back in, and subjected to more torture.

The valve was obtained, the valve was used, and progress happened.

Progress that ended shortly after one of them noticed the false Sammy was back and his shadow was ‘looming’ in the gated off corridor.

“You know they say the camera adds ten pounds. Really, they should add light to that list.”

“Angles are important you moron! You fool! I’m spindly as a handful of dry noodles! How do you fuck my posture up _that bad!_ ”

“Well he’s being silly now.”

“It’s sad is what it is, and I hope he knows his ‘lord’ is displeased with the shoddy henchmanship he’s seeing.”

“Hey Sammy, I thought you could use ink portals.”

“That’s right! Hang on…”

The theater, and all those who could, watched as the shadow gained ‘bunny ears’ then had a dog bark at it, then had his mask stolen. Sammy would continue on with two masks on his head, one to each side. One looked notably more traumatized than the other. Likely because what Sammy had done to the false version after obtaining said mask—while not seen physically—was scarring enough simply seeing the shadow version.

====-====-====-====

Sammy stared at the wall where Henry remembered finding his remains. The radio played a merry tune that was not in any way effective at lessening the memories of being so desperate. At first, he’d been desperately happy, as per usual when the ink still had his sanity. His lord had answered him and he hadn’t even needed to sacrifice something! Then desperately confused as his lord swung at him, grimacing instead of smiling, snarling when Sammy hadn’t died immediately. Then came the desperate fear, the unmitigated _terror_ , as he was torn apart. It had been all the worse, all the more painful, when, as his form was melting, soul far too damaged to keep ahold of the body, remembered just who was more worthy of his admiration. The one he’d been making plans to sacrifice.

The one who stood beside him now, silent as stone, patient as could be as Sammy pulled free from gruesome memories. Memories he didn’t chase away, didn’t shove aside, but buried deeper, to ensure he _never_ made that mistake again.

“Should we tell him what we did to Jendy after finding him?” Cuphead piped up, and Sammy’s head shifted just a breath towards Henry. Henry, whose cool expression turned _malicious._

“Loud and proud, me first.” Henry said, and Sammy felt another tidal wave of admiration sweep the darker emotions clear out of him as glory unfolded before him via a man whose sole life had been built around telling plain stories and making them _grand._

====-====-====-====

The false Sammy waiting to ambush the group waited at the entrance of the hall, growing more confused the longer nothing stepped out. Instead, he could clearly detect the sound of a radio playing far closer than one should. Curiosity wasn’t enough to lure him out however. He was on a mission, one that couldn’t be deterred by antics.

Above him, nimbly making their way across the ceiling, the quartet quietly passed the ambusher. Though, if Sammy stole the second radio that was in the room the false version of him was in, no one really cared.

Not until the world went dark and they woke up in a heap. All but one of course. Henry regained his sight bound to a pillar. The false Sammy confusedly staggered, dustpan dropping to the floor. It was at that moment; Henry had a great debate within himself. There were two roads he could go down there, the high one, and the low one.

But it was Henry, and the high road had always seemed more posh and lame to him.

Low road it was.

“Why Hammy, I didn’t know you were into bondage! Sammy? Is this your way of telling us abou—”

“Henry, finish that sentence and I’m not helping you!”

“I…”

“Bendy, please get off me, you’re heavier than you look.”

“Oi!”

The sound of popcorn being munched was what drew their gaze to the doorway where Jendy sat in a plush chair, downing popcorn gleefully as he watched the show. Of course, once he was noticed, he removed the buttery glove, tossed it so it landed on the false Sammy’s head, pulled another one from behind his back, and snapped it cleanly in place. The false Sammy, nowhere near the true Sammy in terms of mental clarity, just about dropped to his knees in joy, clutching the glove rapturously to his chest.

Sammy squint at him, fingers of one hand pressed to his chest, mask bearing an expression of affronted disgust.

Henry, whose legs were free, planted both on the false Sammy’s head and sent him flying. Henry didn’t care for weird stalker like adoration towards someone that was supposed to be his creation, no matter how bastardized Jendy was.

Sammy, clear in the head as could be, did not react as worshipfully as his false counterpart had.

Sammy, mental clarity so transparent one could see the personification of vengeance walk in, scratch its ass, flop down onto a large arm-chair, kick its legs up, and make itself at home in his head— went for _blood_.

Jendy had been so focused on Henry, ready to crack a joke, he hadn’t expected to be brought down by a near rabid musician. Sammy was on him like a honey badger on crack spotting a vulnerable snake. Sammy was on him like white on rice on a paper plate in a snow storm next to a glass of milk. There was a great cry of _“JUSTICE!”_ And then nothing but more shrieking from both parties.

As it turned out, a rabid Sammy with a violin somehow now in hand was _by far_ more efficient than one blinded by the ink in regards to fighting. Jendy went soaring through the air, clear imprint of a violin on his face, and Sammy followed.

“ _WHO’S LAUGHING NOW MOTHER FUCKER!”_

The quiet breath of wind, the softest brush of the smell of Retribution caught Cuphead’s attention first. He’d been just as awed as the others at the ferocity, but nothing could ever distract him from his brother.

He learned not to ever let his mind wander when his sometimes-devious sibling was around. It often ended in him being pranked and having to scrounge up revenge fueled ideas. He almost smacked his head, disbelief powerful. Of course, his brother could use Retribution in the theater. The theater adored him as much as Brineybeard’s ship adored Cuphead. It would bend the rules any day for his sibling if it meant the blue porcelain deity would act on its stage. The problem was, his golden eyed brother wasn’t exactly friendly right now. Meaning the chances of Mugman magically gracing them with his sweet smile and pulling them out of the theater was nil.

Not only this, but Henry was still a sitting duck. So, Cuphead, knowing he couldn’t help Sammy, and knowing Bendy—who had noticed Mugman’s appearance as well—would be little help to Henry with how jittery he already was, came up with a plan.

It should be noted that the brother in red was not the best at doing that.

“Bendy! Distract Mugs while I get Henry!” Bendy let out a high-pitched wheeze as Cuphead darted past him, leaving him in the path of the inked blue deity.

Sammy sprint by, gunning for ink, as Jendy frantically tried to escape the vicious beat down by running like a headless chicken in circles. The radio toppled out from the musicians overalls, turning on as it landed. Originally, he’d grabbed it to replicate Norman—‘no, in case he doesn’t recognize us, we’ll try to jog his memory! You practically made him a walking version of these! It’s a great idea, quit laughing.’ Now, it only brought a more comical edge to the frantic scene before everyone else. He carried the false Sammy over his head, intent on using the dazed creature like a cudgel.

Bendy, lost as he was, still broken in several pieces mentally—quite like Jendy if he cared to observe the other more—did what Jendy would do. He reached into the countless souls that made him up, the ink that made him up, and mentally asked for some assistance. The ink shrugged. The magic shrugged. The souls went into heavy debate. The cutouts fervently whispered whether asking to play hide and seek would get them killed faster or slower. Ultimately, it was a voice, a pair of voices really, that stood out above the rest. Familiar yet not, and far more level-headed sounding than the rest, they told him what to do. And that was something that had all the other souls and cutouts and magic shrugging in ‘sure why not. It can’t hurt’

Bendy had not yet learned that sometimes, dead people could be bigger bastards than the living.

He cleared his non-existent throat, and golden eyes focused on him, piercing and unreadable. He took a sauntering step forward, and spoke.

“Hey there. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” He reached for his bowtie. Now, his goal had been to suavely adjust it, fluff it out a bit, preen a little. Memories of how much the other had liked the bowtie being the biggest motivation for his action. “Which is just a damn shame, really it—shoot—“ Instead, he untied the thing, and though it stayed in place, he was now shakily looking between it and the other who was, for the first time since being covered in ink, acting _different._

 “Uh, hang on, I uh, I think that you—” A toon with no neck, against all odds, found a way to choke on the bowtie as he yanked it far too hard. Bendy let out a hacking wheeze, and Mugman jerked back, brows slipping lower in confused worry. “You would see that I am, in fact, not someone you should kick in the chest…Not that that’s a threat! No! I—son of a—” One hand tangled uselessly in the bowtie, the other held hostage by white fabric via pinky, Bendy started to sweat.

By now, Cuphead had stopped trying to untangle the knots keeping Henry tied up. Both he and Henry stared at the scene.

“Henry?” Cuphead whispered, “What is he _doing?_ ” Henry’s face, turning brighter and brighter red, refused to open his mouth in fear that the guffawing would ruin what was surprisingly working.

“Stupid piece of—there! Ha! See! I’m smooth!” Bendy puffed his chest up, proudly displaying the perfectly tied bowtie, and then a bead of inky sweat—a bit that still had remains of salty bacon soup— got in his eye and he was flailing, stomping his feet rapidly as he wiped at his face. Mugman’s eyes flickered blue, shot a glance at Cuphead, returned to Bendy, went back to Cuphead, as if he was silently asking what in the world was going on.

Cuphead shrugged on instinct.

“Okay, now that I’ve got your attention, I’m ready to awe and amaze you!” Bendy took a step towards the other, and blue returned to gold. Unseen by all, unheard by all, the ink turned to the soul it had captive, looked at the clearly not hostile manner Bendy was moving closer to the other, and did as it always did when it didn’t know something. It sat back, and observed. It knew if things turned sour, it would find familiar ground and be fine, but for now…

It honestly had _no_ idea how to handle someone that wasn’t exactly stopping it from doing what it needed in any level of an aggressive manner. Especially not when that someone was its pristine child. Before, Bendy had moved with intent enough to make it’s puppet react naturally to the clear threat. Well intentioned or not, the thing in the shadows wasn’t keen on letting anyone try to pin or snatch up its child. But Bendy wasn’t being aggressive. He was practically pouring fearful, false bravado, and the thing, much like the ink, wasn’t all that sure whether to take the motions the other made as a threat and get the interaction over with quickly, or let it continue.

“Now I think we both recall the first time you…uh…graced? The studio with your adorable presence…and your brothers not as adorable appearance! And the creepy shadows!” Bendy gestured to Mugman, then around them, towards the studio. By this point, Mugman looked nervously confused more than anything else. A great deal better than the blank expression he’d worn for so long.

“Sweet shit.” Henry wheezed, face beet red from holding back laughter.

Jendy’s shriek caught the inked toons focus, deemed far more important than whatever weird thing Bendy was doing. The ink writhed along his porcelain.

Bendy panicked.

Bendipe caught the noise of the radio.

Bendipe got an idea, and in turn, so did Bendy.

Cuphead had just managed to get the knots undone when yet another false Sammy ran at them, clearly intent on being more useful to Jendy than the other battered version whose spine was snapped in two after coming into full contact with Jendy’s head. But as Mugman moved, Bendy intercepted him, catching his left hand, pulling the other into a quick spin, wrapping an arm around the others waist. See, Bendy was not just the devil darling, he was the dancing demon too. And Mugman had danced with the cutout.

The inked toon’s eyes widened, not with cold emptiness, but with surprise, and he was led into whatever Bendy’s mind called up. Nimbly, gracefully pulling the other around the mayhem, Bendy danced for the first-time off screen.

====-====-====-====

One key fact about the ink was that it didn’t know everything. It had never had any reason to learn how to puppeteer a porcelain toon, so it had relied on its many tactics to force the other and the shadow to do what it wished. It had been doing that the whole time. A violent parasite leeching off all that the frail little thing had to offer. Now though, even it was drawing a blank. Not inherently hostile, yet not slow enough to gain footing, it slackened the strings it bound the other to, and waited.

Besides, it saw no harm in increasing the chances that the puppet would give in, let the ink saturate everything. Its preferred child would be _so glad_ to have a fully willing _partner._

====-====-====-====

Sammy couldn’t maintain his brutal pace forever. Not because he got tired—because he didn’t—but because inevitably, something would go wrong. This time it was the radio, tripping him up and making him miss catching the squealing ink demon by inches. Jendy saw his opening, and it would have been the end of Sammy had it not been for the ink demon catching sight of Bendy gracefully dancing with his Doll.

This time it was Jendy’s turn to leap in indignation at someone, that someone being Bendy. Bendy lost his focus, let go of Mugman, and both ink demons toppled to the floor. Jendy scrambled up, dragging the entirely lost deity with him into a corner. The demon bared his teeth at Bendy, face bight with indignant rage.

“Got a lot of nerve now don’t’cha!” He hissed at his pristine counterpart. Bendy started to glare, but the cutout in him went ‘no wait, wait, say this’ and he once more went for it.

“Big talk comin from the single version of ‘Bendy’ that can’t dance.” Head held high, voice haughty and disdainful, the crowd watched Jendy rear back as if slapped, gasping sharply.

“Wha— _the hell did you jus_ —I can dance! Why I’m—” He tugged on his bowtie nervously, pie-cut eyes flickering towards the still toon at his side. “Doll he don’t—I’m _great_ at danci— _you take that back you spineless chicken_! He’s lying I _swear he is_.”

Henry broke, cackling even as the false Sammy finally stopped struggling to escape.  Jendy’s face turned an impressively bright grey, and he gnashed his teeth at them all, snatching Mugman up and vanishing into a portal.

After the cackling had finished, after Bendy had turned equally bright grey as Cuphead looked at him with impressive confusion, and after Sammy had gotten his feet back under him and shut off the radio, someone spoke. It was Sammy, the only one currently capable of speech at the moment.

“The fuck just happened?”

Henry burst into more laughter, Cuphead gave a great big shrug, his shadow shrugged, Bendy collapsed, burying his face to hide the embarrassment, and Boris, who’d come to see what the hold up was, tilted his head.

The theater metaphorically leaned back, taking in all it had been given, all that it had to work with. The one who’d oversaturated it had given it carte blanche in terms of creative liberties it could use during their time within its walls. Its child had yet to recover, and it was _determined_ to do as she’d begged and guard not only her, but her prized actors. Plan in mind, it began to tweak and tug, pulling and pushing things into a fresh spin on old material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, quick question. Do you mind the longer chapters? Or would you rather i keep them shorter and sweeter? This thing took a while due to its length and changes i decided i wanted. But if you want shorter chapters, then i can change my plans up and cut the next one in half.
> 
> Now who could those two givin the shit advice be?   
> In case you don't get it, Bendy essentially panic flirted. Souls making him up know flirting is generally a surefire way to get on someones less hostile side, and that's what he wanted anyway. Granted, it worked! No, this isn't a sign of pairings to come. It wasn't done out of a crush, it was 'please don't kill me, your eyes are lovely! Not murdering people is almost as pretty as they are! So you should grace the world more and not kill me. Or kick my head clean off...or maul me.' I'm trying to keep definite pairings out of this thing, same as i did for Corruption.


	20. Broken legs

Sitting in the safehouse felt both like being at a respite and a cell in death row. The usual way things worked, they’d relax, Henry could get some rest, Sammy could stare creepily at Boris, and Bendipe could watch all he could from his little cutout form. It was tense, but not enough that none could get comfortable. This was not that. Bendy was bright grey in the face, giving off a high-pitched whine whenever Cuphead would bring up yet another part of what had happened that Bendy found embarrassing. Sammy deliberately listed how it was good that inspiration had hit him for a new song, really it was. It was a good thing for Boris that Sammy didn’t feel like crafting a new tune, because Sammy got quite mean when he wanted to create and had nothing to do so on hand. Gee, it was such a good thing considering Boris’s inky make-up.

“And did you really say I’m not as adorable as Mugs? And my Domain! I’ll have you know my Domain is positively cuddly. It looks like you’re trying to melt into the chair Bendy, why are you trying to melt into the chair? Is it because the adorable brother isn’t here? No, it’s the creepy shadow isn’t it. It is?”

And Henry was trying to snooze, but his old war senses were screaming at him, keeping him high strung and tense.

Boris shared the same general ‘one little slip and the chair is melding to ink’ appearance Bendy was taking on, ears back. At one point, he’d gestured to Cuphead, inky memories hazy at best, but he recalled an equally small blue one. That had gotten him hissed at by Bendy.

He hadn’t brought it up since, even though Bendy had immediately whined into his hands after.

Bendy would later blame it on his inherent dislike of the hound. Mostly he feared saying the toons name or bringing him up too much would make Jendy show up and that would bring Mugman and Bendy’s dignity wasn’t ready to face him yet. It certainly didn’t help that Bendy and all the cutouts knew how much vitriol Jendy had for the hound. And Bendy for that matter. If there was one thing Bendy would readily agree on it was that Boris was terrible and should never be allowed near anyone else because of how horribly intimidating and mean he could be.

“He once told me butterflies drank blood you know. Had one on my nose, I don’t have blood, and he said it anyway. You know how gross that is? He’s evil and has you fooled by the cute. I bet if I showed you a few of our baby pictures you wouldn’t be as tricked. Actually hang on.”

Henry kept his eyes closed, letting them rest as he leaned against the wall, listening intently to everything around him.

“Boris, you know, I don’t recall making enough songs for you. Now that don’t seem right now does it Boris?”

“Here’s one where he pushed me off the counter. See that smile? He—no don’t look at how cute he is, he’s evil! I’m mid fall!”

“This is _great_ , I have another thing to lord over Jendy.”

“Why would this be something to… but here’s one where he hid my head and Elder Kettle took a photo because he couldn’t believe how Mugs had gotten to the top of the linen closet while carrying me and while my body was trying to find me. See that evil gleam in his eye? That’s pure, undiluted—”

“Why do I see sparkles in the film?”

“By three he had a real good grasp of weaponizing his cute, don’t focus on that.”

“Hey Boris, do you know where the lever is? Boris, I sure hope that lever reappears in that door. I’m getting a creative tingle in my hand Boris. And wouldn’t you know it? I don’t got an ink pot on me. It would be jus—”

Henry listened to the harried, lumbering footsteps followed by metal clumsily clanking against itself until a click rang out and what Henry could only describe as old cartoon sobbing noises started coming out of Boris. Somehow, amongst the chatter, his frazzled brain found the off-switch, and he was out.

====-====-====-====

“Can’t dance my left foot… I can too dance… Any schmuck can flop around a dance floor.” Jendy pouted, mood foul, ink writhing around him as he sat in the heavenly toys factory. He’d gone from pacing and spouting awkward reassurances to angrily ranting at a shredded Boris plush to hissing dark threats at an Alice plush. The angrier he got, the less embarrassed he got, the more the room darkened. Jendy almost felt like he was being watched, but he was used to that feeling. Joey and the studio did that all the time. This place appeared no different, which made it easy to push the clinical gaze to the back of his mind.

“See how tough they are after I’m done wit’ em.” He had entered the threat stage for the third time, and the only visible audience he had, awkwardly leaning against the plush Bendy, didn’t appear to notice much, head tilted down. “I’ll present the heads of them gods out there. Bump em off the immortal coil. _Bet that’ll get a laugh._ ” Except unlike the last two times, his ink was bristling more, running faster down his form, as if urging him to do just that. To leave the theater, decimate Inkwell, and return to display the final nail in the coffin of their hopes to beat him.

And the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to do it. He wanted to leave, find all who lived on Inkwell, and crush them. Then he could come back and get a healthy dose of revenge on those the theater was bringing to the stage. He’d wear Alice’s halo like the tacky crown it was. Perhaps make them think Norman was waiting for them, only to display the decapitated projectionist. Sammy got lucky before, but Jendy was certain he wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

It was right there. He stared at the closest puddle of ink, form growing sharper, more threatening. He only had to step in. Or even call it to him. It would do what he asked too! He’d be out and back before any of the bimbos sitting in the safehouse could realize Inkwell was a wasteland.

He took a step closer to it, lips wobbling as a barbarous grin struggled to not slip too far.

====-====-====-====

Being in the ink, one could argue, when it didn’t want them there, was the worst thing in the world. It was loud, painful, _wrong._ Every second was full of countless victims of the ink, wailing or shouting or cursing or brokenly whispering. None knew how many sat in the ink, fed it. So _many_ had found what they’d hoped was solace or a good place to lay low, only to find death waiting in the form of a malformed, unnatural creature. Many had fought to escape. Some had even dealt damage to the thing they now fed.

Those were the ones screaming still, even now, years after being shredded by wrathful hands.

Others had broken long before. Seeing the door slam itself shut, trapping them, and when flight took them further in, getting them lost in the dark halls, they’d wound up too tired, too scared to fend off the things. Others still had gotten angry, smashing everything they could see. It did nothing until they smashed a cutout, then, that was the last thing they remembered.

Some, those closer to the studio, to the ink, found themselves relegated to certain roles. Many select ones found themselves playing the part of Boris. Others found themselves in the shape of one of the butcher gang members. Only a very select few were any level of lucky as those who held solid, rigid forms. The soul powering Sammy was indeed Sammy’s. Same as the one’s lurking within the two Alices. Susie, for all her antics, refused to come out any other way, despite knowing she would never be as pristine as Allison. Allison clung to the image of Alice like a baby holding its comfort blanket. Tom however, was far too weak towards Boris, and Boris appeared indifferent any that weren’t Joey. That wasn’t to say Boris had any say, or any consciousness. He really didn’t. He wasn’t as necessary to Joey as Bendy had been. He simply didn’t remain stable if the soul didn’t appeal to him.

Countless souls easily numbering well above ten thousand, steeped in ink, misery saturating the very world they’d never wanted to be part of, but had no chance of ever escaping. Crossing decades, spanning generations.

To the various deities and mortals of Inkwell ow soaked in ink, it was much the same. None of the gods had any ability to think beyond the crushing agony. The bitter hatred for their very being, the mocking bite tearing at their minds. But they’d been around for centuries. Miserable though it was, it wasn’t near enough to decimate them as it had the mortals soaking the world. They might not have been entirely aware, but they knew well enough to keep from falling too far. Even now, Grim and the victory brothers were clutched within their Domains.

But the key difference was that, though those three were just as far as the porcelain child sitting in what felt like an empty space was in the ink—they were _far_ older. Their Domain’s held them tightly, warding off the spirits coming too close, screaming too loud, grounded enough that the pain was the only thing they had to focus on.

Mugman had no such boon. He was young, a baby in terms of immortal years. Both he and Cuphead were so _new_ , novice in so many things. Curled tightly, he too, sat wrapped by his Domain, but unlike the other gods, the screams, the wails… none of it was drowned out. For one under such a Domain, one that constantly saw, constantly heard, constantly bathed in examining things around it, he had no chance. And it couldn’t break its’ habit and simply stop listening. Hands pressed tightly to his head, head pressed deep into his chest, body curled as tight as it could, rattling joining the endless noise around him.

He wept, finding no reprieve no matter how hard he tried to cut off his senses. His Domain observed him, and all around it, shadowy fur bristled but useless in keeping out noise that had no definitive origin point. Every so often, they both would feel _the thing_ come around. It would observe them back, taking obvious glee in his body-shaking sobs.

There was no end to it, no Retribution to drown out the noise, the faults, the replays.

Nothing but the ones who held no mercy, no care for him or his pain or his Domain’s golden gaze.

At the start, Mugman had been upset. He’d tried reaching for the closer ones, hoping to soothe them, give them reprieve. Only for them to be swept away in the currents of the ink. Each pulse around them brought more, new souls. Some were far less ignorant to him. Some lunged for him, snapped at him, cracked and broke whatever they could before his Domain could pry them away. He’d given up after the first unknown handful of time. Curling close to his Domain, letting it act as a barrier that kept the violent ones from breaking him. At some point, as the heart-wrenching desolation pressed down on him, he’d begun to cry.

Crying for his brother, listening hard for his sibling’s voice despite how it pained his soul further. The wails around him drowned most everything else out. It started to become too much the longer no answer was returned to him. Then he began to fear hearing Cuphead’s voice, fearing that would mean Cuphead too, had fallen into the ink. And so, he’d taken to trying to block it out, but he had none of the necessary experience. So he was forced to listen and huddle ever closer into his own form whenever things in the ink swept too close, snapped at him until they were enlightened to just how bad an idea it was to approach the one coiled around the deity.

Now, he couldn’t decide what to do. Calling out for Cuphead, begging the ink to stop, pleading to the souls to just let him have a moment of peace so he could help them. Finally, he gave up, collapsing as the ink gleefully carried Jendy’s voice, his plans to crush all those dear to Mugman, all because of some silly remark. His body shook, and he brokenly pleaded for something, _anything_ to make it stop. A snout brushed against his shoulders. Thick, shadowy fur draped over him.

_‘Child, will you forgive me? I will fix this, do not cry my dear child. Just promise to forgive me.’_

“Anything, please, I’ll never be mad at you, please, just make it _stop!”_

‘ _Then, I will carefully take note of how the game goes. So that you will have boundless satisfaction once I bring you freedom **and Retribution.’**_

====-====-====-====

“Jendy?”

A voice Jendy hadn’t heard since his little accidental mouth removal incident locked the ink demon in place. He hastily wiped ink from his brow and twisted his head, mouth dry. Bright golden eyes watched him, not emptily, not coldly, but with calm patience. He almost fell over.

“Where are you going?” Though the other didn’t have a mouth, his voice, his _warm_ voice filled the bitter silence. Jendy tried to speak, only for nerves he had no idea he had to make him hack out a rather uncomfortable sounding honking noise. He felt his face fill with a bright grey blush as the other’s brows dipped low in confused worry.

“I uh…” He tugged on his bowtie, and when it came undone under his fiddling, he cursed and frantically tried to retie it. Soft, cool white hands brushed his away, and Jendy wheezed. He hadn’t realized how close he’d stumbled over to the other, or how the other had moved further to close the gap. Not quite towering over his Doll, the sweet, golden eyed toon was short enough that he was eye to shoulder with Jendy. When Jendy felt ink run down his temple, he hastily snapped out of his daze, leaning away so none of the dripping ink fell on the other. “I was goin’ to.. uh.. go…”

Jendy didn’t know what it was that made telling the other he was going to commit oodles of murder difficult, but it was nigh impossible for his tongue to wrap around the statement. The soft gaze returned to him slowly faded into a cool one, and he felt his inky spine shudder.

“What do you want Jendy?” The other kept his hands over the pristinely tied bowtie, frame close enough Jendy could register cold drifting over from the other, perhaps from the inability to produce body heat. It was pretty chilly in the theater turned studio, he wondered about that.

“Well I want several things Doll, ain’t nothing you gotta worry about—”

“Tell me.” Not spoken like a demand, but one all the same, however lacking in heat or power it was. Jendy’s jaw audibly clicked shut. “I know you’re going to leave and hurt the others. But I don’t want you to. So tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

Soft, sweet, a voice like liquid honey, a touch as gentle as a breeze, Jendy felt his knees go weak. He stammered a bit, shakily wiping away more ink away from the other, desperate to keep as much of the other free of ink as he could. Though there was no mouth there to frown, Jendy got the distinct impression that was what Mugman was doing.

“I- I wanna do a lot of things, see a lot of things, I don’t know where to start.” Bright—not harsh, far too smooth to be harsh—eyes shifted, as if the frown was turned into a patient smile.

“What about here? You wanted things while in the studio, and we’re back in a place where you can get what you wanted. What was it you want most here?”

A partner, someone to not bring agony his way.

A bus full of interesting souls touring decrepit buildings so a hunt would be more entertaining.

A soft return when the hunt was over, someone to curl around and get comfort from.

A neat new weapon to make chasing whack-jobs down halls far more fun instead of annoying.

Henry’s head on a platter, but he’d _never_ ask that of his Doll. Nor could he verbally admit to the other things without feeling like a moron. But, there was _one_ thing. One that he’d been trying to do from the very beginning. Soul after soul fell to him before Henry, and the emotion he loved seeing most? _Fear._ But Henry—creator he may be, jerk, he _definitely was_ —never showed he was afraid. Never _once_. Even when Jendy was digging claws into his innards, ripping intestines free when fortune smiled on him enough for him to get a death on his hands. And all the mockery the cutout turned on him? It made him _vengeful._

“I wanna see Henry truly afraid. A-and the others!”

“I won’t kill them, you won’t ask that of me, will you?”

“No! No I would ne- no. I just want…” He drifted off, unsure, nerves twisting his tongue. Delicate hands, made of something he knew well and good he could turn to dust should he choose to, rested on his cheeks, pulling his focus on an ink-stained face.

“Will you humor me, my dear?” Jendy frantically nodded, body near liquid state. “I will go out and make them all _scream_ in horror. I will make them _wish_ they’d never entered this place.” The grip grew stronger, the gaze darker. “But in return, you have to do something for me. Will you, my darling?”

“Anything! You just say the word Doll. Why, what kinda man would I be if I just—” A pearly white finger pressed against his mouth, and his voice locked up. Focused on the sweet, angelic toon before him, he failed to see anything other than golden eyes.

“You can’t drag even one more of the gods into the ink. You can’t do to the others what you did to Grim and Ribby and Croaks. And, in return, I will give you Henry’s, Bendy’s, and Cuphead’s _fear._ **_Deal?_** ”

Jendy rested one of his hands over the soft one still against his cheek, and eagerly nodded, even as something in him reared back.

“Done deal.” He agreed.

And the shadows coiled around the ink. The ink _roiled_ , but the oldest part of it couldn’t refuse. The shadows cooed, but the ink didn’t miss the insulting edge. Even so, it _knew_ its preferred child had never been so happy. And it knew doing as the shadows _requested_ , would only further its own goals. If that meant devouring less? It would make the sacrifice. Besides, the shadows weren’t the only slick maker of deals in the room.

The lights around them flickered, and the shadows brushed up along Mugman’s body. As the pearly white tinged darker, the ink staining it vanished, as if the shadows were hiding it. As the shadows slid further and further up, the bright colors darkened, but the ink faded from view, until Jendy was staring slack-jawed at a dusky deity who gazed back, mouth quirked in a teasing smile. Mugman’s hands fell away, and he turned, raising his voice towards the walls surrounding them.

“What do you say? Shall we set the stage?”

The walls around them, the theater itself, _grinned._

The show had started, but act two would be grander yet.

Coy gold eyes flickered back towards the shell-shocked ink demon.

“Be a dear and wait for me to call you, won’t you?”

Jendy nodded dumbly, the world flickered, and Mugman was gone.

A few souls immediately began placing bets on how much of Jendy’s IQ would be dead by the end of whatever the other had planned.

A couple notable ones, one of which was being dredged back out to begin their part, remarked quite dryly that there had never been a high IQ to start with.

====-====-====-====

Henry woke to the sound of the safehouse door being torn from the wall. At first he thought it was Sammy finally snapping. Or Boris’ desperation giving him the strength to make a quick exit. Or Bendy becoming embarrassed enough to throw caution to the wind. Only, the thing tearing off the door wasn’t anything he’d _ever_ seen before. It looked like one of the searchers that had thicker ink, if that thing had gone to the gym, found the weights lacking, and took glue to every weight in the place just to get a suitable thing to bench-press. It was _hulking_ and _angry._ It roared at them.

Bendy shrieked, hiding behind Cuphead, then remembering his self-chosen mission of guarding Cuphead, and circled back around, then saw the ink thing had teeth, and once more ducked behind the very confused porcelain cup. Boris let off a flailing, noiseless wail, ducking into the corner and facing away from it as if that would do any good.

Cuphead pulled the Gatling gun from the shadows, brows furrowed low with confused annoyance at Bendy’s antics.

“Henry was sleeping you puddle of wasted regrets!” He scolded. Sammy flung the tool box as hard as he could at the thing, followed by the table, equally mad Henry’s sleep had been interrupted. It bat the toolbox away, ate table, then ate five-hundred rounds a minute’s worth of bullets. It very clearly hadn’t expected that. Or the high-powered shotgun aimed at it. Still, with all the ammunition, it managed a hearty swing at the closest enemy. Sammy evaded it, but it wound up knocking a chair into Boris, making him yelp in startled pain. It began to thrash, writhing in a desperate bid to hit _something_. But the quintet had fought and evaded far worse than the thing, and with minimal damage, it fell to the heavy fire.

Bendy squeaked out a breathy cheer. Henry squint.

“That’s new.” He muttered, crawling feeling returning to his spine with a vengeance. The very walls around them bent, warping as if the building had taken a breath.

“Every dang time I come here, this place finds a way to remind me how weird it is.” Cuphead grumbled.

“Cuphead?”

The gun fell into the shadows, and before anyone could follow, the red cup was off like a rocket. None were surprised though, not when that was his brother who’d called out. Henry followed immediately after, with Bendy and Sammy taking up the rear, leaving a stunned Boris in the dust.

“Mugs! Mugman, where are you?” Cuphead shouted, smashing into walls as his boots failed to find the needed traction to avoid skidding in his haste to find his sibling. The lack of response only made him more frantic until he hit the darkened halls and his Domain just about writhed. Cuphead’s heels dug in, leather catching old, cracked wooden floors, just in time to avoid the piston that hadn’t been there before, hidden by the shadows before, smash into the ground. He shouted something at the studio in the language no one around knew, an insult based on the tone, and watched the piston, followed by gears shifting behind it, move.

A pulse, a beat in the machinery shifting in the dimly lit hall, acting as a heart would. Before, the place had been dark, but golden fire had been ready at their side to chase it away. Now, Henry-who’d caught up—grumbled as he picked up the flashlight. He smacked it a few times, bitter about having to use something so pathetic.

“I’d be better off setting something on fire and using a torch than this thing…What…” Upon noticing what had stopped Cuphead, Henry, and the rest of the group silently tried to wrap their brains around what their eyes were saying they saw. “Oooohhh, _bag of dicks_.” He hissed. Sammy wheezed.

“The hell?! I know we called it boring but _this? Really?”_

“It’s because we complained about the studio, isn’t it.”

“A terrible flashlight, a dangerous, gear filled corridor, and no test dummy to throw in and see what happens.” And because the Theater wasn’t the studio, and the theater wasn’t keen on boring strolls, it called upon one of the many in its repertoire. A screeching wail burst from behind the group. Boris shot from behind them all, running into the dark. At first they thought it was because he had volunteered.

Then they remembered what kind of toon Boris was.

Then the suped up Boris, the one Alice mauled and changed, appeared, storming after the on-model version. The moment it spotted the group, it picked up the little miracle station, and threw it at them. Cuphead and Bendy shrieked, diving in after Boris. Sammy shoved Henry down so the station smashed into the wall behind them. Then he returned fire, hauling the desk up, winging it at the hound as he had Hammy. While the other Boris was reeling from the hit, they followed suit, heeding the pulse of the hall, avoiding being ground to paste or smashed by pistons. Dark though it was, there was just enough light to keep a fast, steady pace.

From ahead, they heard shrieks, followed by “I’m telling Mugman you tried to kill me!” and “Boris just get in the damn vent! No don’t growl at me!”

From behind, they heard the angry roars of the beast.

“Norman is in for some shit when he joins us!” Sammy shouted over it all.

“Alice is going to have an aneurism!” Henry tossed back.

By the time they caught up, Boris had crawled into the vent, but not before snarling deeply at Bendy, displeased with the other telling him what to do. The doors ahead rattled as the gears within struggled to open. The not so hostile Boris did not reappear, but the definitely angry one did.

Sammy descended on him like a demented sugar glider on crack. He’d fought the other so many times, it was laughably easy to claw into the hound’s face, break off the metal arm, and use it as a club. Still, the other didn’t have to also contend with the Projectionist. So, in a stroke of luck, he managed to grab ahold of an ankle, throwing Sammy through the open doorway.

He got a shotgun blast to his face for his efforts.

Where many others had fallen to that, the ink reformed the battered pieces, and the torn beast _snarled._ Then he got a bright blue blast of whatever magic Cuphead had, and there was no more head to snarl with. Sammy sprang back up, hardly injured by the throw, more annoyed than anything. As the form melted, another, far more fear filled cry erupted from ahead.

“Cuphead!”

“Mugman!” Cuphead was off, hardly sparing a glance to the destroyed hound or the grate that had yet to spit out Boris. He didn’t care about some barely known toon, he cared about his brother. Bendy and Henry followed as before, with Henry pausing to huff out some more quick information for Sammy. Namely, who exactly they were chasing the voice of.

“He sounds like he’s ahead, which means Alice might have found him.” Sammy reasoned. If the toon wasn’t appearing in front of them as they reached the toy factory, he was likely behind the bookshelves, unable to work gears from his side. Cuphead, mind never quite able to not see random things that had little to do with the current situation, couldn’t help but notice how the plush Bendy looked a tad bit off. But then, he hadn’t looked all that closely the first time, too busy thinking of how he’d spring it on Mugman, and how he’d get a giant squeaker idea into Werner or Kahl’s worklist. Sammy and Henry however, _did_ notice.

“Hey isn’t that what Jendy looks like when he’s skipped leg day?”

“In the throne room of paltry decision?”

“Yeah.”

“It does!”

It stood up.

It grinned at them.

Simultaneously, they both groaned. Sammy even threw his hands into the air, exasperated.

“The machine’s clogged Henry!” Bendy called from ahead, voice pitched high with fear.

“Then unclog it!”

“It won’t let me!”

“What?!”

“Where’d the toys get knives?!”

The new beast began to grow, ink rippling around its form as it increased in size, still grinning.

“I’m breaking the book cases!”

“Butcher gang!”

Screams from ahead, screams from Sammy as the thing lurched for him, and Henry’s mind jolted. For a brief moment, he wasn’t at the false studio. Stress at all new highs brought him back to the only other time he’d been so deeply worried for those he considered allies. The thunderous boom of the creatures fist hitting one of the railings only pulled him further in, and the shotgun slipped into his hands. The world went quiet, sound all but non-existent. Steady calm drove deep into his grip, each pull of the trigger finding its target with unerring accuracy.

The creature hissed, fumbling to turn his direction as one of its legs was blown clean off. As it staggered, he blinked, and found himself tearing the head off one of the butcher gang members clawing at a prone Bendy. Sammy punt one of the many dolls around them now carrying daggers. Cuphead, hands alight to the point where it hurt to look at, gave off one colossal shot at the bookcase blocking their way, turning it into powder. Behind them, the thing had regained its senses enough to follow. No one hesitated, Henry scooped Bendy up, Sammy threw stab-happy dolls at the creature in a desperate bid to slow it down enough for them to get through the door, horrified it shrank enough to fit and chase them into the smaller room.

Bursting through the door, they found the room dark rather than lit. The world went quiet temporarily, and sound returned to Henry. He found himself sucking in great, heaving gasps of air, chest aching from the intensity. Clinging tightly to Bendy, he went about calming himself down, relying heavily on the cool ink Bendy was made of to ground him.

“Mugman!” Cuphead called out as the door slammed behind them.

“Cuphead?”

“Mugs! Where are you?”

“It’s dark, I think I’m behind glass?” Light taps on the window Alice usually appeared behind rang out, and Cuphead staggered under the weight of his relief.

“Let me just break the glass, I’m so—”

“Cuphead, how are you going to do that without hitting me if neither of us can see?”

“With style?” Cuphead tried weakly, throatless voice strained. A thunderous bang interrupted everything. The door cracked, a fist broke through, and as it shattered the floorboards, the world rippled. The ink spread, turning into a void. It moved faster than anyone could react, and Sammy, followed by Henry, followed by Bendy, and finally Cuphead, fell. As light spilled into the room, Cuphead caught a flash of grey toned porcelain, of dark blue, of golden, _cold_ eyes.

His Domain rumbled.

====-====-====-====

It was a city they were dropped into. An empty city aside from a demented taxi revving its engine up at someone trying to become one with the building they clung too, high above the creature. The moment Henry caught sight of black hair and impressively pale skin, he whipped out the wrench and screwdriver, whistled at the taxi, and _smiled_.

“Alice? How’d you get up there?” Sammy called out, ignoring the screaming from behind him.

“It launched me up! I grabbed onto the flag pole as I was falling and I’ve been stuck here since!”

“Oh huh… Henry? Got room for another?” A gear flew by, Sammy perked, up, and joined the other in showing the world how one skinned a taxi. Bendy waved to Alice, holding a finger up to tell her to wait a moment. Alice, who hadn’t seen a pristine version of Bendy, squinted at him. Echoes of Alice Angel wondered what the little devil was up to _this_ time. He whistled, and then waited, confident in what he was doing. When nothing happened however, he got a bit nervous, a bead of ink dripping down his temple. Memories correctly informed him he needed one more thing, and Alice and Cuphead watched Bendy pull a flamethrower out, and set the front of the building on fire.

“Forgot it don’t come unless this is…yeah there it is!”

Alice—who’d been in the process of carefully removing her shoe so she could throw it at the little imp—felt her jaw fall open. A firetruck—sirens blaring, lights blazing—roared onto the scene, scrunching up as it stopped before the building. Alice couldn’t help it, feeling her lips quirk up into a smile. She let out a scream, pressing a hand to her forehead, untying her bowtie to wave it like a handkerchief. The firetruck spat a helmet out at Bendy. He caught it, skittering to the side as the ladder hit the ground.

Cuphead watched it all, trying to decide what was more fun. The taxi being flayed, or the firetruck revving its engine as if to act tough towards the fire challenging it to a fist fight. Bendy got the ladder up, Alice immediately began to descend.

A taxi tire rolled by, flopping onto a stray clump of fire reaching for the firetrucks cab.

====-====-====-====

“Hiya Alice!” Bendy waved, chipper despite the second taxi appearing in the distance.

“Do you have a leather fetish.” Was all she responded with, scrutinizing him caustically.

“No.”

“Great! Hi Bendy! Where’s Bendipe?”

“Here, it’s me. I’m me…he’s we?”

Alice huffed out a laugh, turning her attention to Cuphead once she’d determined Bendy wasn’t a threat. “Where’s your brother?”

“Well, it’s a lot to explain.”

“Henry! We got another volunteer!”

“Hah? Bendy! Pass over my roller skates, I’m gonna make this interesting!”

Bendy dutifully passed them over, and Alice, not smiling anymore, not at the nervous, antsy tinge to the toon before her, arched a brow at him.

“We have plenty of time.”

The taxi let out a terrified shriek, the firetruck spat water out at the building, Sammy and Henry cackled, and Cuphead tried to explain to the best of his ability, relying on Bendy for some of the less than clear moments.

As the world faded to black—and as the taxi beeped out dying, pathetic horn beeps—Alice’s expression only grew darker.

====-====-====-====

“Did you know Henry once bashed Jendy’s head clean off? It was in the train room, if you recall that place. So feasibly, I could tell you that I fully intend on using his skull as a hackey-sack, and I wouldn’t be offering up empty words of comfort!” Alice told the despondent cup once the realization that Mugman wasn’t where he’d been before settled on the group.

With Cuphead and Alice, the demon side wasn’t a safe option, leading them to the angel side instead. Alice squint at Henry as he hit the tape recorder, having never gone the angel path through all of his many rewinds. They all listened to the one before them talk about losing and being upset about it.

“Jokes on you Stein, I’m keeping that, and when we find Allison, I’m playing it. And after that, I’m breaking out the recordings I know she did.” Alice hissed, passing it over to Sammy for him to hold. He waited for her to look away before passing it to Bendy, who put it behind him, keeping it stored for later use.

====-====-====-====

Walking down the creepy hall, only made creepier by the flickering lights, the shadows of searchers despite none being present on the walls, and the fact that they all swore they heard someone laugh when Bendy cracked a joke. Someone who wasn’t part of the group.

“The fantastic news is, if anything, Allison would be the helpless lead screaming her head off every three seconds.” Alice remarked, scratching at her less than pristine features.

“I’m one-hundred percent sure Jendy or Bendy aren’t keen to either of you. Unless… did the cartoons say anything?” Henry tossed back.

“No, I just sank a ship at one point, or heralded its destruction! One of the two.”

“Cala Maria used to do that. Oh hey! If the theater lets you out you might meet her!” Cuphead remarked, perking up at the idea.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, currently.” Bendy, thinking of the scant few instances they’d been near the ocean, frowned. Cuphead appeared to remember the state of the outside world as well, and huffed out an angry breath.

“After we turn Jendy’s skull into a decorative hat, and if this place isn’t a prison, I’d love to meet whoever you want to introduce me to.” Alice, choosing to be soothing for once, gave the red toon a quirk of a smile. He smiled back, they all felt a bit better, they opened the door, and Boris waved.

“Henry he snarled at me!” Bendy cried out, pointing an accusing finger at the hound. Henry looked at the frozen hound, then to Bendy.

“Now Bendy, he probably only meant it to be friendly. Why don’t you give him a big ol’ smile, show there aren’t any hurt feelings.” Henry bared his teeth when he described the smile. Bendy took that cue for what it was, turned back to Boris, and grinned a big grin full of horrifyingly vicious looking teeth. Boris side stepped back to the door, holding the pipe now, shakily.

He wondered if maybe he should have just kept moving. He’d seen the other one while waiting, so perhaps he should have done more than just wave.

====-====-====-====

When it came time for the switches, Henry and the rest went to explore while Boris remained stationary by the first switch. Down the hall, they listened to Wally and Thomas argue, all letting out various noises of displeasure at the end, and pressed on. Only, once they got to the broken miracle station, it wasn’t just torn up, it had things inside. Sitting on top of a pile of neatly folded clothing—a black shirt and red shorts—was a potion, bright blue in color. Cuphead lost all color on his face, taking in the written words directly above the outfit.

Haltingly, he edged closer, reaching out to grab the edge of the shirt. Echoes of harsh sobs, breaking porcelain, soul liquid splashing onto wooden floors as the body crumbled away, vivid in his mind.

“How—” Shrieking from behind them interrupted him. Henry shouted for Boris, and was answered by the chilling laughter of voices he didn’t recognize at all. He didn’t have to move to discover them though, not when the butcher gang, looking far more perfected than before, burst into the hall, gunning for them. Alice clicked her tongue, digging into the ink beside her, pulling the tommy gun out in the next move. She was the first to open fire, but she wasn’t the last. Except instead of just running and eating bullets, the trio responded.

One, Barley, dove into the pipework under them, screeching. Another, Edgar, skittered up the walls, avoiding the hail of gunfire. The final one didn’t quite move fast enough to avoid the crack of bright blue fire from Cuphead, yet as it dissolved, it continued to cackle. Bendy shrieked as Barley reappeared behind him, lashing out with enough force to send Bendy into Cuphead, and Cuphead into Alice.  Alice staggered, cursing up a storm. Sammy brought out a banjo no one remembered him collecting, and as Edgar leapt at the prone woman, he nailed the toon hard enough the head splattered to ink before the body even had a chance to hit the ground.

But once it did, it stumbled back to its feet, and—following the angry cursing—charged at Alice. Henry hefted Barley up, smashing his head into the wall repeatedly, throwing the toon once he stopped trying to hit Henry. Sammy snatched the toon out of the air and used him to repeatedly bash the spider-like toon. Bendy was hauled up by Henry, who helped Cuphead and Alice up as well.

Once everything fell silent, the group took a moment to soak in the fact that none but the enemies were downed.

“Aren’t you thirsty?” Cuphead whirled around, back to the miracle station. The potion was now spilled, liquid staining the outfit. Behind it rested the book that Cuphead _knew_ hadn’t survived, propped open to the exact page that had led to his death. Nervously tugging on the linen around his arms, he shuffled away, shaking his head.

The rest followed, confused or worried or suspicious more of the buildings new antics, but hoping it would be more displeased with them not really acknowledging it than walking away as they were.

They found Boris, or what was left of him.

“Oh damn.” Alice remarked, looking at the bits of ink-soaked overalls stuck to the ceiling. Henry hummed, like a judge examining an art piece. Eventually, he gave it a thumbs up.

“It could be a bit more intense, maybe include a mutilated skull next time, not bad though!”

“The effort is there.” Alice agreed.

“Should have left him alive so we could see him dragged off into the shadows.” Sammy tossed in. Bendy just shot a glance at Cuphead, not fond of the pale, shaken appearance of the other. Getting the door open was easy, heading for the elevator was equally easy. They all stepped in, the elevator let off a cheery ding, and they began to descend. It appeared to move a bit faster than before, something Henry was relieved to know.

As it descended, the outside rooms drifted by. Without a Norman there to project cartoons onto the walls, it was all they had to focus on. Which was why it was impossible to miss the chair, out of place in color and location, toppled over, pieces of porcelain decorating it. It vaguely reminded Henry of chairs he’d seen earlier, but he couldn’t remember where. Cuphead almost smashed his face into the gate, eyes darting around the scene, gold flickering in his gaze, fingers curled tight into fists.

He bit something out in the unknown language, snarling at the world around them. In response, the elevator dinged a cheery ding, and let them out onto the ninth floor. Cuphead was the first off, storming down the stairs towards the great metal doors. The trio of taller toons and humans shot glances at one another, confidence that they were in their zone, home advantage firmly on their side of the court, fading faster.

Cuphead kicked the doors, metal groaning at the assault. His body was alight with gold, a feather illuminated the most. Bendy grimaced, ducking behind Henry to avoid the cold light, not liking the feeling it gave him. Alice and Sammy both shifted, as if seeking the shadows instead of the light. Henry wondered why he could hear the sounds of a field kitchen scrambling to cook up meals for tired, hungry soldiers sick of rations that left stomachs feeling emptier than before being eaten. The door rattled open, the group entered, and the world turned cold.

The light drifting off of Cuphead was enough where the far darker path failed. Upon reaching the room where the multitude of toon bodies normally rested like a macabre display of insanity, they found something different.

It looked like a field. It took those still in the mindset of the studio to remember they weren’t in the decrepit building. The field was bathed in smoky sunlight, ground shredded with holes large enough that if Sammy laid flat on one, he’d span the entire thing and still not touch the sides. The remains of a cart lay scattered about. Pots, pans, charred food, plates, and all other manner of things rested brokenly as far as they could see in the room.

Alice sucked in a sharp breath, staggering back as the smell of charred flesh assaulted her nose. Sammy, suddenly glad he couldn’t smell, caught her, and shifted his gaze to Henry, confused, but not near enough to forget about where Henry had gone. He may have drifted into insanity before the war kicked into full gear, but he knew uniforms when he saw them. Even as charred and bloodstained and torn as the pieces strewn about were. Henry’s face was gaunt, eyes hazy, pale as the bodies around them. He took a step, body shaking visibly. He would have toppled over had Sammy not caught him too. Bendy grabbed Henry’s hand, understanding what Sammy intended to do as the man focused on the clear path amongst the remains of what must have been a group of soldiers about to eat.

Alice began speaking in as soothing a tone as possible to Henry, following the group, careful not to fall into any of the pits. Cuphead continued to lead the way, feather on his back casting a far too eerie shadow considering the current scenery. The moment they touched the other side of the room, the lights flickered, and they were back in the studio, beyond the lake of ink. Henry continued to breathe deeply at the behest of Alice, following the soft song she hummed. Soon enough, he was less pale, clinging tightly to Bendy’s hand and Sammy’s arm. Cuphead yanked the door open, soul liquid steaming in his head, near the point of boiling.

“I told you this place was miserable.” He threw back. Henry choked out a laugh, nodding as exhaustion slammed into him. Alice snorted.

“Understatement. I’m so annoyed I’ll have to take back everything I said at the studio. There _is_ a place out there worse than it.”

“I know everything about _all of you._ ”

The group collectively shrieked or cursed, not expecting a warped version of Alice’s voice if it was mixed with Allison’s to come from everywhere, yet nowhere, all at once. Cuphead responded with a sharp word, eyes blazing gold. He strode forward, eager to ruin whatever happened to be in the room awaiting them.

“How?” Sammy asked, immediately feeling stupid after doing so.

“You bleed, you cry, you give off _anything_ in this place, and it gets a piece of you.” Cuphead replied, tone dark. Considering the place had been hit by Jendy earlier, taking into account the times Henry had died in the studio, how the ink creatures all rested eternally in the ink, it made cold realization coil around their chests. They reached the place where Alice usually stood behind a plane of glass. It was dark, only the light from the hall weakly reaching the edge of the glass.

“This ain’t funny you washed up hobby shack!” Cuphead shouted out.

“Well I think it is.” The voice, the one they’d been chasing after, answered for the theater. Cuphead lost all his rage at once, taking a step towards the glass.

“Mugman?”

“That or your impulse control, depends on who you ask.”

“Mugs this...what?” Cuphead pressed closer to the glass, trying to gaze through it. The lights from behind burst on, and the group all had to hastily cover their eyes. Mugman, perched on the pedestal, observed them. Cool grey porcelain didn’t quite reflect the light the way Cuphead’s pearly white porcelain did. A sharp smile, edged with saccharine mockery, decorated his face under cold gold eyes.

“What happened?” Cuphead’s voice shook under the strain of his horror as he took in his brother. Mugman’s smile widened maliciously.

“I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.”

“It was the ink wasn’t it.” Sammy held up his hand as he answered. In turn he was blasted by a bright smile. Where it would have blinded before, it only served to unnerve everyone.

“If the theater gets a ‘worst place’ award, I’d like to host the ‘worst of’ awards here, starting with worst sibling.” Golden eyes narrowed wickedly, blazing as they fell on the brother in red gaping like a fish. Then they shifted to Alice. “Miss. Alice? You were right about the ink, it’s miserable.”

She and Sammy both nodded.

“Hey! Explanations would be nice!” Cuphead pressed his hands against the glass, watching the pane bow under the force. Mugman heaved out a sigh, rolling his head loosely. The lights flickered, and he stood right in front of his brother.

“There are over ten thousand souls in the ink Cuphead.” His voice was quiet, soft. “Ten thousand souls none too happy to be dead and festering away in something near inescapable. Would you like to hear it?” Eyes wide, face devoid of emotion, head tilted just the slightest, the world was suddenly full of countless voices. Booming off the walls, ripping through the ears and heads of all present. Sammy and Alice shuddered, pressing hands to their ears. Henry cursed, mimicking the other two. Bendy withered, shrinking down as his creator tried to shut out the sound. Cuphead shouted something at his sibling in that unknown language, face sheet white. The sound vanished not a moment later, and the world was left with the reptilian rumbling from Cuphead’s shadow.

“It’s _miserable._ And what does my dearest brother do instead of help? _Gives the one that did this to me cannon fodder to use against him while it only grows worse for me._ I would have thought the potion would be a one step learning process, but no! Here we are, you, throwing your weight around like that makes you useful, and me, as you currently see.”

Cuphead’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his eyes growing wet the longer he took in the glacial glare from his dearest family. “Well what would you have done!” He choked out finally, smacking his hand on the glass. Mugman’s face grew deadpan.

“I’d have put those two somewhere safe, scouted the shadows for wherever he might be hiding you, and tear each and every soul from him as brutally as possible after fixing you. No chance for him to retaliate, and nothing for him to retaliate with.” Mugman crossed his arms over his chest, resting his weight on one side. Cuphead’s face rapidly regained color, flushing a bright red.

“I don’t ever recall saying I was great at planning things out!” Cuphead snapped back, sounding more hurt than angry.

“ _Clearly.”_ Mugman’s voice was cold enough to make the rest step back. Henry got the distinct impression a sibling fight was brewing. But then, Cuphead was relaxed, matching Mugman’s crossed arms pose, rocking back on his heels rather than shifting his weight.

“Eh, but then again, never said I wasn’t an opportunist either.” Mugman arched a brow. Cuphead shifted, and the glass shattered between them after one solid hit delivered by the brother in red. Cuphead lunged forward, intent on grabbing his brother. He was met by a barbarous grin, and above the sound of glass crashing to the floor, Mugman spoke.

“ _Showtime, my dear_.”

“Ain’t you fella’s heard three an- up’s a crowd!” Jendy cackled as he emerged from the walls as ink began to pour down them, wearing the perfected form from the studio. His claws dug into Sammy and Henry, the two closest to him. Throwing them into the ink-soaked walls, he went for Alice and Bendy next. Cuphead was grabbed by his wrist and bodily thrown into the shadows by his brother. As he went into the void, he saw Alice and Bendy thrown into an inky wall as well, screaming in horror all the while. Nearly hidden, as he fell through the void, as his Domain rumbled, he heard a pained, sorrowful voice softly whisper to him. ‘ _Please, don’t hate me.’_

====-====-====-====

Jendy squealed happily, doing a little tippy tap dance, ink pouring down his frame as he returned to his chosen appearance on Inkwell.

“They were scared! Did ya see it Doll? They—” Jendy broke off into a high-pitched noise, a happy blush high on his cheeks.  Mugman hummed, tapping his nose idly in thought.

“But they didn’t scream, we can do better, can’t we?” He smiled at the walls around him, at the theater, and the lights flickered in response, just as excited to ramp up the show. But before he could move to do so, he was scooped up by Jendy in a tight hug. He squeaked as he was spun by an overly happy ink demon.

“I ain’t never seen Henry look like that! Oh Doll, if you ain’t the best thing since sliced bread I don’t know what is!” Jendy cheered, rubbing his cheek against Mugman’s. The porcelain toon let him, looking towards the ink on the walls, golden gaze piercing, _unnatural._

The ink stared back, contemptuous but sated.

====-====-====-====

Henry laid on Sammy, staring up at the ceiling as Sammy did the same. The heap of two bodies gave off such a vile amount of ire, the first searcher to approach popped like a balloon within ten feet.

“So…”

“Ink’s a big asshole huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Wonder if it’s affecting this building too.”

“Dunno, kid ain’t here to say.”

“Hm.” The two fell silent once more, not quite willing to move just yet.

“Henry?”

“Yes Sammy?”

“Are you bleeding?”

“I am.”

“Oh.”

“I also broke my arm.”

“…” The stream of cuss words proved so vile, various noises like car horns and dog barks and bells and whistles overlapped his voice, courtesy of the theater. A potion was retrieved hastily, and downed halfway.

=====-====-====-====

Bendy huddled tightly in a ball, trying desperately to meld with the wall as he and Alice rested behind a trio of cutouts. Empty though they were, the two knew well enough nothing would really bother them as long as they didn’t overtly show their faces to everything. Alice was far more relaxed, leaning against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed, mind racing. When noises belonging to the more hostile creatures came around, they went entirely still, tense, listening. But, true to the studio, nothing bothered them.

After ten minutes of that, Alice spoke up, voice low and plain.

“What’s with the cowering?” Her eyes cracked open, observing Bendy from under her lashes.

“What?” Bendy looked at himself, then at her, and back down at his tightly clenched hands.

“I can safely say Bendipe didn’t get skittery when things went bad. I’d know, little shit gloated at us enough times. Where’s that gloaty little bastard and who replaced him with…you.” Bendy’s lips curled, teeth flashing, but Alice didn’t move, didn’t so much as react. “We’d be moving by now, and he’d be decorating the halls…like a cat presenting a corpse to its owner. Except Henry would be upset if I told him he owned you and Jendy.”

“I’m just getting warmed up! It takes time ta get scary!” Bendy’s voice rose, snapping back down when a bubbly hiss answered him from behind the cutouts.

“Jendy sure didn’t wait. Nor did Mugman apparently, poor kid.” She drifted off; face pinched at the recent memories. Bendy too, fell silent.

“I tried tellin the ink to listen t’ me. It don’t listen t’ me.” Alice slowly, carefully inhaled. Lashes low, voice just the same, she answered.

“I used to want to be Alice so bad, I let Joey call me that. I let him call me Alice, and I loved when he did. I thought it was perfect for me. She sure didn’t agree.” She gestured to the malformed part of her face. “Alice doesn’t care for me at all, or she’s decided she wanted to expand her character more and give the world two variations of herself. Allison got Alice’s approval. I didn’t. I got her scraps.” Alice tilted her head back once more, not taking her eyes off the one listening to her with wide eyes.

“It’s unbelievably painful to know the one I poured my heart and soul into giving a voice to shunned me, shuns me still, tosses me aside just as Joey did. I gave her _everything_ down to my _sanity!_ And she gives me _this_ in return. I could murder Boris a thousand more times, I could drink the thicker ink a hundred more times, and still, I’d look like this. And Allison? She’d look the way she does with none of my effort, because Alice likes her more. What’s worse? Allison hides her Angelic portions.” She gestured to her dress.

“You’ve seen it. She covers herself, takes the perfection away, purposefully. Willfully removing what I so desperately wanted, without a care. And what’s hilarious? You and Jendy are exactly like us. Except, I don’t think _Bendy_ has accepted either of you.”

“But look at me!” Bendy weakly waved to his balled-up body, frowning.

“I am, and I don’t see the one I saw on screen. I see a broken mirror, reflecting what it thinks it should, what it hopes is right, just so it won’t be shattered any more. Jendy owns the parts of _Bendy_ that were malicious, but playful. We’ve seen it, even in the studio, bound to Joey, he owned his part as best he could. But you? You might as well be a collage of these cutouts, stapled pieces of a character so broken it can’t even decide what it wants.” She drifted off, letting her words sink in, then continued.

“I’m not saying this to be mean, or inspirational. I’m saying this because if I have to slog through this new and improved studio, I don’t want to do it with a demon that doesn’t know how to be demonic, or that he _can_ be demonic and still be charming. That’s just going to lead to one or both of us getting killed, and I already got axed in the head by an assclown that’s going to wish I stayed dead if I get to him.” She leaned closer, dark eyes burning with vengeance. “ _and I better live long enough to see that bastard, y’ hear me?_ ”

Bendy stared at her, staring at the warped portion of her face, at the painful look of the flesh melded in a manner it never should have been. He stood, still looking at her, and as a searcher caught sight of him behind the gap in the cutouts, he spoke.

“Are ya wanting t’ _axe_ him a question?” The cutouts melted, sliding into the floor, ink around them shivering. The searcher bubbled out a scream, lunging for them, calling for more. Alice slid a tommy gun out from a sliver of ink that drifted behind her along the wall, painted lips stretching into a _nasty grin._

“Nah, but I’m sure _gunning to see him.”_ The gun’s muzzle lit up, Bendy’s far from cute face—warped once more—was the last thing one searcher that fell into range of his axe saw.

====-====-====-=====

Cuphead sat on a chair, remains of searchers splattered around him. The Gatling gun continued to spill smoke from the barrels, resting for now as Cuphead thought. Considering deep thinking wasn’t his strong suit, he wasn’t having that fun a time of it. Especially with no sibling to bounce thoughts off of. The good news was the focus of his thoughts was the one not at his side currently, and if there was one thing he was well versed in, it was his brother and his moods.

Mugman was mad at him, except he wasn’t.

Mugman was in a mountain of agony, but he wasn’t.

Mugman was the one who’d spoken to them, except he wasn’t.

But he was the one who spoke. His shadow rumbled. Cuphead grumbled, lighting up a searcher with his magic instead of the Gatling gun. It was right about now that he was truly angry that he’d rejected Bon Bon’s offer to lend him one of her canons. He was fairly certain blasting a new exit would make the theater think twice about keeping them there. Then he remembered that, no, this was the theater, and it would only make the theater irritated.

He hadn’t believed his brother when Mugman had described how intense the place got when Sally wasn’t being ignored by her Domain, and when Beppi’s was available to aid it. Though the clown was inked, he wasn’t corrupted, so Cuphead, who was in the same boat, could see how the clown’s Domain would still readily give aid to the theater.

A part of him wondered if they’d be in such a postion if he’d gone after Beppi instead of Chalice. That part then remembered Mugman’s words, and curdled. Cuphead was well versed in what Mugman sounded like before crying. Be it out of frustration or sorrow or any other emotion, he knew well and good his brother had been miserable, was likely _still_ miserable. And Cuphead was further still from helping him. While Mugman had spoken to him, he’d called through Retribution, receiving nothing but frostbitten ire in return. But underneath that, layered under the wall that was his brothers Domain, sat an unbearable amount of desperate agony.

Mugman was in pain, something Cuphead hoped he understood well. Hoped his time drenched in ink equaled what Mugman was going through. Because if it was worse, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the second time ever where he fell to the blind wrath of a god with a sibling scorned. He _still_ didn’t remember what he’d done to Kahl, and asking only got him shooed out by Werner, who scolded him for bringing terrifying memories to his brother’s overactive mind.

The biggest problem was that, Cuphead knew Mugman. He knew his brother better than anyone else, and in some areas, better than Mugman knew himself. Cuphead could confidently say he knew _exactly_ what to say to soothe ruffled feathers and get his brother smiling again. Or at least less likely to hide his head in the linen closet for the umpteenth time.

He didn’t know Mugman’s Domain. And even worse, he didn’t know what it had done to his brother. Somehow, Mugman knew what Cuphead had gained and lost from his Domain. He knew when the emotions not quite Cuphead’s were eclipsing Cuphead’s more rational thoughts. When souls steeped far too much in sin and faults and destruction called to the beast lurking in his shadow, and in turn, his new, far more aggressive side. He knew when Cuphead was starting to lose himself, and showed it by calling for the scales. The scales whose chime never failed to pierce through his hazy bloodlust, his need to devour and tear into, returning him to what he used to be before the potion.

Cuphead would sometimes watch his brother interact with those being judged, and not understand. He couldn’t follow the words, the mannerisms his brother used. Actions that seemingly temped, coaxed the one being judged into responding in a grand manner of ways. And when they reacted negatively, despite the ire that would immediately burn a trail up his back, he never failed to spy the golden flash of analytical dispassion. He also never failed to notice how, though his Domain was quite eager to show itself to the brothers, Mugman’s hid behind veneers. Behind a false mask of a hound and a cat, never one at a time, never both at once.

And the only reason he knew he’d never seen Mugman’s Domain properly, was because much like King Dice when he wasn’t in his true appearance, Mugman’s Domain had a hazy line around it. For all he knew, the biggest reason his brother was kicking them all to the curb now, was because of his Domain. He knew Mugman had gotten advice and help from Rumor and Bon Bon and many others, same as Cuphead had. But he’d never once seen Mugman use the advice. Their sibling fights amounted to an intense game of tag, with Cuphead being it every single time.

But that didn’t mean Mugman hadn’t absorbed the information, soaking it in, waiting to put it to use. Unless it did, and it was the Domain pulling strings binding his brother to it. He knew his own Domain could make him move, it did just that as a searcher approached, removing its head with one clean shot with enough room between them that the splatter didn’t so much as land a foot from him. But he couldn’t recall ever seeing Mugman’s do the same to him. Except he got the distinct impression that he wouldn’t know if it had or hadn’t. The thing didn’t play by the rules his did. It didn’t have the brutish manner of destroying and terrifying as quickly and violently as possible that his did.

He couldn’t help but feel that those golden eyes had turned on him on more than one occasion, and found him lacking.

He stood up, knowing he needed to see more of his brother first before he could truly decide. If it was his brother, driven to the brink of insanity by the ink, he’d pull Mugman back. If it was his brother’s Domain, he’d pry it aside, and find his brother, and give him whatever help he needed to truly escape the ink. Whatever it was, he’d handle it.

Planning wasn’t his strong suit, but winging it was.

====-====-====-====-=====

Split up by the ink, but still within the range of the intercom system, all heard it when the speakers gave off a squeal, followed by the voice of the ink demon.

“Since ya seem so keen t’ playin’ games, we’re goin’ t’ play one. Yer all hiding, and I’m seeking. And if I happen t’ find ya?” Jendy broke into a low chuckle, speakers switching off a few moments later. Henry and Sammy looked at one another as the inked man waved another searcher away. They figured they were on level K, but when they tried the elevator, it hadn’t responded. Choosing instead to wander in case the others were on the same level, they’d left it alone.

Now, they stood by one of the little miracle stations, baffled as to whether Jendy was serious or not. On the one hand, habit had it so being afraid of him was nigh impossible. On the other, he wasn’t exactly acting the same. Ultimately though, they decided to not fear the demon. To Henry, it was difficult simply because he could accurately describe how many organs Jendy had tucked away in his inky body. He knew the exact force needed to knock Jendy’s skull off his shoulders. To Sammy, it was because he wasn’t fond of arrogance blatantly shoved at him, and he was still raring to go in regards to revenge.

So they plodded on, footsteps solid on the creaky floors. Though they didn’t go out of their way to make extra noise, they certainly didn’t hide their presence, shooing away searchers easily enough. As they went down the hall leading to the odd, gated off section, a cutout shifted as they walked past it. Henry hummed, turning to see what it wanted, up until he remembered they weren’t supposed to do that in the theater.

Sammy, who’d been focused ahead, was what ultimately saved Henry. Catching sight of wickedly sharp clawed hands reaching eagerly down for Henry’s head, he swung his banjo up and over like a hammer, smashing Edgar off the ceiling. Catching the sound of another noise, he twisted, keeping the momentum going even as a gunshot rang out as Henry went to finish Edgar off. Instead, his banjo met with strings he only saw once the light glint off them. Gaping, he caught sight of countless streaks of fishing line, spreading out down the hall. Henry cursed as another Edgar, or more accurately, his skull attached to a giant fish hook, swung down towards them. Eyes X-ed out, the thing cackled, spider like fangs gnashing at their faces. Sammy planted his foot, and mashed the skull into the wall, shoving Henry back down the hall, away from the definitely dangerous hall behind them.

“ _There you are.”_ The gun went off in the direction, met by laughter, high and demented. “ _I ain’t in th’ mood fer pain, hows about you try your luck with this fella? HE MIGHT LIKE IT!”_

As the two sprint into the heavenly toys factory, the ink in the room began to boil. Henry staggered back, waving his hand in front of his face as the room began to fill with smoke. From within the haze, Sammy—eyes not hindered by natural irritants—caught sight of something rising. He hissed, pulling Henry into the hall leading to the toy room. Keeping an eye behind them, he felt his mask shift, and didn’t hesitate. Snapping his arm up, he tore Edgar off from the ceiling, crushing his head into the wall and sending him into the room, listening to whatever was inside react.

Both were well versed in the noises the studio gave off. Both knew quite well what the butcher gang members sounded like. They were also quite knowledgeable in regards to the noise of a searcher scraping along the ground. What they weren’t used to, was the raspy laughter from the ceiling above. Numerous voices joining the far too large scraping noise. As the smoke rose, as the room cleared enough to see more than ten feet in front of them, they finally saw the thing sitting in the central room. A searcher easily four times the size of the others, and now that they could see it, it saw them too.

It lashed an arm out, leaving a sizeable dent in the central pillar machine. Giving off a great screech, it went for them. They twisted, hoping to gain an advantage in the smaller hallway, only to find countless wires blocking their path, boxing them in.

“Lord of dicks, Y’ hear me! Lord of dicks is what you are!” Sammy shouted up at the nearest ink stain on the wall. Henry didn’t joke, hauling Sammy out of the hall and into the room, eyes burning, mind fading back to older, less kind times.

====-====-====-====-====

“This isn’t how you treat a lady!” Alice shrieked, sprinting down the hall with Bendy close behind her as the malformed butcher gang members hounded the two. Level 11 was proving far from friendly to them. Despite the strong start, Bendy couldn’t help the old pieces of himself making him squeal in horror at the sight of an aggressive striker. Not that Alice could blame him, she’d screamed when a splash of ink almost hit her, old habit burning strong. Upon reaching the part of the hall flooded with ink, Alice had hurriedly scaled up the miracle station, shouting for Bendy to get into the box. Hazy memories hazy because Henry simply never used the damn things, told her the creatures wouldn’t go near the box if someone was in it.

Luckily for them, it continued to hold. And the butcher members wobbled off in different directions. As one sloshed down the hall, the only one they could still see, Bendy stepped out, peering from behind the door at the thing. The moment his feet cleared the box, a hand, the one that normally sat in the rivers far deeper in the studio, burst out, wrapping around the striker, smashing it up into the ceiling before clenching, sending a spray of ink everywhere.

Wide-eyed, Bendy slowly, carefully, stepped back into the box. The hand slipped back into the ink, wiggling its fingers at them in a teasing wave, and Alice wheezed.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead wandered through the rooms, digging through for papers simply because he could. He’d already tried the elevator, and his Domain had let off an apologetic croon when he’d tried going into Retribution. He’d gotten smacked on the back of the head by a board on the ceiling for his escape attempt, and hadn’t tried again. With the Gatling gun being the only thing he was apparently allowed to pull from the shadows, he kept it tucked away, not wanting it to weigh him down.

Thus far, only a few searchers had gone for him after the initial assault. He hoped that meant they’d learned, but he got the distinct impression the theater was just messing with him. As he turned the corner, intending to go into another room, the world flickered. For the briefest of moments, he caught sight of an eye, golden outline, bright gold iris, staring at him. Within the next flicker, it was curved, as if smiling. His Domain gave off a rumble, and the room’s temperature dropped. He looked at it, confused, as his was the only one with a habit of doing that, and if it had been Sally’s Domain, it wouldn’t be a sigh-like rumble coming from his shadow that was for sure.

“Found you.” He shrieked, leaping into the air, head clanking onto his collar. Spinning sharply, he stomped his foot as his cheeks puffed up, face bright red with embarrassed ire. His brother hid an amused laugh behind one hand, golden eyes glinting with not so kind mirth.

“Yeah keep laughing, I’m getting you back for that later.”

“I’ll mark my calendar.” Mugman replied, arching a brow, mouth keeping the far too sharp smile. Cuphead glared, eyes flickering gold, but ultimately staying red. Mugman observed him, letting Cuphead do the same to him. After a few moments of tense—at least to Cuphead—silence, Mugman clasped his hands together, resting them under his chin. He bat his lashes, cutely tilting his head so he appeared smaller.

“Gosh brother, you aren’t mad at me are you? I mean, I’d hope you aren’t.” No level of cute hid the gleam of malice building the longer Cuphead remained silent. “Considering how much I sacrificed for you after all. I, me, personally, I would be quite thankful my not so adorable brother let the ink break his body over and over every time he cured me of the thing he couldn’t cure himself of. Between you and me, it’s looking like that wasn’t the way to go.” The smile fell, and Cuphead felt a shiver roll down his back. “Maybe I should have left you to drown. Maybe then you’d be putting whatever cymbal monkey that runs your upper mental functions to work instead of acting like you’ve got the high ground.” By the end, Mugman’s voice was as glacial as his expression. Cuphead scowled.

“I’m right here baby brother. Any time you wanna hop into Retribution and take a bath, it’s ready and raring to go.” The brother in red gestured to his shadow, the very one that stared unerringly at the one across from him. His own shadow, devoid of gold, still didn’t match his outline. Cuphead had intentionally used their self-proclaimed title of warning. While they didn’t know who was truly older, Cuphead constantly proclaimed himself as the older one, often changing the amount of time between them from seconds to half an hour. Eventually it had become Mugman’s way of warning Cuphead of approaching pain should Cuphead continue whatever antics he was doing at the time. And Cuphead used it to remind Mugman how often the other lost when it came to their scuffles, that if he continued, one would brew and he’d wind up regretting it.

“Do you think it would work?” Mugman answered with a question, posture deceptively loose. He took a step closer.

“Do you think your Domain would be enough to remove the ink covering me?” Another step.

“Or do you think it would only make things worse.” Another step.

“Do you think it would break me instead?” Another step. Cuphead held steady.

“Would it tear me apart and leave what remains for my Domain to fix?” Another step, and Mugman was barely two steps away from his brother. The shadow under his feet splashed, water lapping against his ankles.

“What do you think?” One more step, and Cuphead had no ability to look away. He forced his shoulders to shrug as loosely as he could, a cold feeling washing through him. The world around them fell into shadows, illuminated only by the feather on his back and a few lights that managed to pierce through the oversaturated air. Then, the glow was brightened further. Cuphead held up a hand glowing with a golden light, air around the shot growing dense.

“If not, there’s always the second option.”

Mugman frowned, taking his eyes from his brothers to glance at the threat hardly a few inches away from his face. When he looked back, it didn’t take his Domain hissing to tell him he’d overstepped.

There was only three times he could ever remember Mugman wearing the expression he currently had on. One so dark, devoid of every single ounce of positive emotion, that the two previous times it had been directed at Cuphead, he’d immediately broke into apologies out of survival instinct. The gold only made that look worse. Slowly, Mugman reached out, curling his own fingers gently around the wrist illuminated by the magic.

“You’d shoot me?” The voice too, one that was historically followed by Cuphead racing to scrounge up every endearing trait he had he knew Mugman found endearing enough to put murder on the back burner. Porcelain fingers, bare and frail, curled around the back of Cuphead’s hand, pulling it towards the others cheek. Once it rested on ice cold porcelain, Mugman hummed. “Shall we test it?”

Cuphead’s shadow hissed.

Mugman’s laughed.

“ _Bang.”_ Finger suddenly tightening up, followed by the loud booming noise behind him, and Cuphead lost his focus. The charge went off, and while it would never, could never, damage Cuphead, Mugman was sent back, porcelain raining from the gaping hole in his face. Cuphead choked on a scream, staggering back as his brother’s hands flew up to his broken face. From the depths, as soul liquid stained a deep navy blue poured down, a bright gold iris with a harsh red pupil stared at him, and a laugh burst out, falling into cruel, vitriolic cackles.

“ ** _There you go big brother_** _!”_

_‘Cuphead why?! It hurts!’_

**_“It didn’t work!”_ **

_‘Please! What did I do?’_

Cuphead’s body moved back, his mind doing nothing but scream as his broken brother took an uncooridinated step toward him, dual voices assaulting him, mixed with the demented laughter.

**_“Are you going to leave me?”_ **

_‘It hurts!’_

Cuphead felt his Domain react more than saw it. Stumbling, it forced his legs to carry him away. As he was forced to turn and run, as shadows cracked the bulbs around him, as the piercing howl no longer near as soothing to hear followed at his heels, he listened to the laughter, to the broken sobs. This time, when he smashed the elevator button, it responded. He fell inside in time to avoid a massive set of jaws snapping shut where he’d been a moment before. The heartbreaking sobs followed him as the elevator went up, and, back in control of his body and voice, he screamed.

====-====-====-====

‘ _What are you doing?’_

_‘Fixing things. I have promised to do so.’_

_‘You need to go this far?’_

_‘I do. I will apologize later. Forgive me, my Feather.’_

_‘Of course, my Scale.’_

====-====-====-====

“Wait a second…” Bendy, slumped on the seat, bored more than scared, lifted his chin from his hand. “Heeyyyy… I know who was telling me t’ embarrass myself in front of Mugman…It was you!” He shouted, turning. Sure, the wall was the only thing that fell into his view, but he knew well and good Alice was behind it. He heard snorting, and glared. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was?”

“It worked though! Which is surprising. I’m entirely sure if you’d tried that pathetic show on anyone else you’d have been smacked into the sun. How was I supposed to know you’d suck at being smooth!”

“You—” He bit off his insult, squeaking as the shadows began to writhe, ink in the hall roiling.

“Of course I’d find you cowering.” Jendy’s voice rang out, filling the room. Bendy hissed, narrowing his eyes to slits as his sharper mirror image peered back through the opening. He dipped lower, further down.

“It’s not cowering if it’s tactical.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it aint!”

“Fine! How’s it tactical?” Jendy leaned closer, pie cut eyes lowered, displaying boredom. Bendy simply bared his teeth in a wicked smile. Jendy frowned, and right as he heard a click is when he realized that Bendy was the only one looking back at him. Bullets tore through the station, slamming into the ink demon who was directly in the line of fire. Bendy squashed himself lower, feeling wood shards decorate his back. Jendy shrieked, toppling over as ink burst with each solid impact. The hand in the ink shot up, lunging at the box, but Alice was ready, diving into an ink portal, reappearing on the other side. Bendy too, dove out from the miracle station as it was turned into a pile of scrap wood.

Jendy threw himself into a puddle of ink, teeth audibly gnashing in his rage.

“See, tactical!” Bendy called out.

The hand that had been waiting for Jendy to clear out chose to answer the quip with a silent one of its own. If Alice hadn’t hauled Bendy out of the way, he’d have been turned into a puddle. He hissed at it, but let Alice pull him away, running for the anywhere that would provide protection. The cheerful ding of the elevator was matched by the butcher gang’s screams. They flew into the machine just as the gates were opening, with Alice turning to slam them shut, ignoring the shriek of gears from the gates. Without pushing a button, it rang out once more, and began to climb.

Hearing sniffling, the duo finally noticed that they weren’t alone. Cuphead didn’t acknowledge them, tears rolling down his cheek, knees tucked up to his chest. Alice knelt down, reaching her arms out towards him, but not touching. “What happe—”

“Incoming!”

“I told you not to garotte it!”

“How was I supposed to know it would multiply!”

“This place is that level of assholish!”

The gates opened, Henry and Sammy toppled in, and the gates closed. As it rose once more one of the Edgars managed to reach through the gate and scratch at Henry. Sammy grabbed its arm, coldly listening to the ink burst as the battle between the inky body and the gate ended in the gates favor. Henry panted, laying flat on his back, shotgun smoking beside him. When he caught sight of the pale Alice, and the traumatized Cuphead, he sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I feel like your description of this place was lacking in numerous areas.” His voice was low, but light. Familiar enough for Cuphead to notice at least. He sniffled, wiping the streaks of red from his face with a shaking hand. As if to answer, the elevator ground to a halt. All who’d dealt with the studio enough knew what was about to happen, and turned their attention to the room outside the gates. Mugman hummed, draped on a chair regally.

“It’s got its quirks, I’ll admit. But there’s no better place to put on a show! Speaking of.” He sat up, half-lidded gaze turning into a sunny expression. “Would you like to see a magic trick?”

“Mugm—”

“Of course you do! How sweet, ready?” The elevator shook, cables above groaning. “Now you see me.” They caught a flash of ink dripping down from above, falling between the floor of the elevator and the floor outside. Golden eyes blazed. “Now,” and before he finished, as Jendy peered down from behind the gate, inky body reforming beside the relaxed blue deity, the cable gave out.

Sammy cursed, reaching for Henry, determined to at least act as a buffer between the floor and the fragile human. Bendy clung to Alice, his and Cuphead’s smaller bodies rising off the floor as the elevator rained sparks down around them. Alice refused to scream, crossing her arms instead, glaring at the outside rapidly flashing by. Cuphead felt the shadows around him curl around him, unable to take him away, but at least cushion whatever impact the theater gave them.

But, moments before they knew it was to happen, the world went dark.

The theater closed the curtain on the act, brick and mortar rattling from excitement. Setting the stage, it cooed at its actors, gleefully watching, changing, adapting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time i rewrite the studio scenes, i gotta watch and play through the freaking chapter. I don't like the chapters y'all... No sir.  
> So, this was going to have both chapter 3 and 4, but then it went over twenty five pages, and i thought, nah.  
> Nah.  
> Thank you for giving the green light on the longer chapters. And the comments.  
> I may hate rewatching and replaying the damn game, but shit if it ain't fun to stamp new ideas onto! Yes, i am pleased with this chapter.  
> I'd like to also state i've drawn what the brother's domains look like. and somehow, Mugman's came out far creepier than Cupheads.  
> Also, if you didn't get the chair, check back in Corruption, during Mugman's meet and greet with corrupted Victory brothers.


	21. Lights Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves. Not only for a long chapter...but my first ever attempt at a thing that I felt was needed.   
> It ain't great, needless to say.

When the lights turned back on, they were once more in a heap on the ground. Cuphead, at the top of the pile, rolled off. Alice moved next, free from the weight—however much there was—and free from the worry of damaging the porcelain toon. Then Henry, who groaned as he eased off Sammy. Sammy in turn shifted, grumbling about the pointy thing under him. Bendy, at the bottom of the pile, wheezed, glaring at them all. Cuphead looked around, curious to see exactly when the theater would begin messing with them.

He might not have been a studio veteran, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Not that he would know, as he and Mugman had been asleep around that time. Then again, all he had to do was observe the others, watch how they groaned and got up, unhurried, relaxed. It was enough to tell him things were still clear of theater shenanigans.

He wondered how long that would last.

“Great news, I feel well rested!” Henry piped up. Alice waved her bowtie like flag, huffing out a sarcastic cheer before retying it. Sammy stretched, limbering up despite not needing too. He was following the mindset of Cuphead, fully believing the theater was just waiting for them to get comfortable or confident.

“Oh I remember the good old days where I’d kidnap Boris, modify him, and then sic him on you all.” Alice piped up, looking back at the destroyed elevator. Henry laughed. “Yes, I do recall how you cared more for Bendipe than Boris.”

“Are you the one that steals the door handle?”

“No. I don’t know who does that.”

“…Well, now’s as good a time as any to learn!”

The group split. Sammy and Cuphead going watch the door, Henry, Alice, and Bendy, going to the room with the odd recording. None got far before the cursing and screaming spilt out from the room.

“Sammy! Management’s gone to the—fuck—dogs!” Henry shouted while Alice spit out a slew of cusses. Bendy squealed, narrowly avoiding the beasty Boris’s angry attempts to grab him. He passed the door handle to Alice, who shot it over to Henry, who flung it at Sammy, who caught it and slammed it in the door. With so many in the way, Cuphead couldn’t fire, but he didn’t need to. Boris snatched up Bendy finally, somehow choking the smaller toon in a vice-like grip. Henry’s heels dug into the ground, he skid to a halt. Cuphead, in that moment, was reminded of the time a snake had been teasing them, even lifting Mugman off the ground when his brother had tried cooling the serpent down. Out of nowhere, Bon Bon had appeared, with nary a sound to herald her entrance.

That stew had tasted odd, but delightful none the less.

Henry too, reduced Boris to a smear on the wall before anyone could actually realize he’d ripped pipes off the wall to slam into the hounds’ mouth. Bendy was held by Alice, not even remotely scared anymore, smiling away as the hound gurgled much like the tape in the room. Sammy spun the door handle, cranking it open as Henry finished, wiping his hands off on the wall, scowling down at the remains.

“That’s starting to get boring!” He said.

See, what had happened there was Henry forgot where he was. For the briefest of moments, he’d forgotten that they weren’t in a studio that only knew how to do things in a very linear manner.

He remembered when the entire place burst into whispering laughter. Hushed, gasping chuckles, surrounding the group even as Cuphead threw his hands in the air, giving Henry a look of disbelief. Even Alice and Sammy groaned. Henry looked down abashedly.

The door swung open, not by Sammy’s hand, but by strings. Strings that proceeded to wrap around everyone, dragging them into a growing light.

“Henry you son of a bitch.” Sammy hissed.

====-====-====-====

“Well, we’re outside again.” Alice, feeling like stating the obvious, breathed deeply, rather surprised at the fresh, clear air. The group waited for a few minutes, confused when nothing happened. Normally, things happened when they were sent to these places. It was ultimately Sammy that caught wind of the faintest of tunes. He ushered the group to the right, following the path. Though, when the path started trying to spear them, they moved off of it. When little creatures popped up, it took one festering, irate look from Alice to send them scattering for cover.

As the music grew louder, the smell grew stronger. The smell no one had noticed until a wave of it slammed into everyone. Bendy watched everyone rear back, rubbing at his face, right where a nose would have been.

“Oh what the hell?!” Sammy wheezed.

“It’s worse than the other field!” Alice choked, ripping her bowtie off and covering her nose.

“Smells like off-brand bacon.” Henry mused, sucking in tiny breaths through his mouth. Cuphead just coughed, face green.

They almost didn’t press forward, at least, not until Bendy caught sight of something, and briefly losing himself, yelped, dashing off the other direction towards where they’d been going. The others turned to look as the smell intensified.

“I knew it.” Henry squint at the can of sentient bacon sloshing their way. A knife embedded itself inches from his feet, he nodded, and sprinted off, with the rest following shortly after. More creatures popped up, but that wasn’t anything to the group when one could open fire, another could cut swaths of them down with a shotgun, and the other two could use whatever control of the ink they had to shove the spikes of ink away and down.

Once more, Sammy was the one to hear something different. Above the clanking of the can, the screaming from Bendy ahead of them, the angry rants from Alice, the cracks of gunfire, Sammy heard it. Something approaching rapidly, growing louder, and Sammy’s memory had long since connected the song to only one person.

There, behind the can, using a good six creatures to haul a cobbled together wheeled sled, Norman rode majestically. Or, about as majestically as one could while ‘living in the sunlight’ was blasting out of an old speaker. The can went from aggressively chasing them to acting much like Bendy, letting out terrified, pigeon like coos, waving its hands ineffectively above its head as its demise approached rapidly.

“Mush!” Norman shouted, waving an arm that looked eerily like the ones attached to the can. “The hunt is on!” He cried, whacking one of the creatures with the broken fingers attached loosely to the palm. Henry took the distraction up, sliding in the dirt, throwing himself off the path to the side, sprinting up a hill. The rest broke from the path as well, following Henry’s lead. Cuphead’s hands lit up, feather on his back blazing as the power in his hands grew, intensifying until an audible, low hum filled the air near him. Henry took aim, waiting for the perfect moment. The can hit the spot, hit the exact location Henry had visually marked.

Two booms later, and the group stood around a shredded can, cheerfully greeting Norman. Well, most of them.

“Hey, where’d Bendy go?” Cuphead asked, looking around. Henry, mid-hug with Norman, stuffed his face into Norman’s chest to hide the string of curses he was confident Bon Bon would kill him for if Cuphead heard them. The world shuddered, faded, and between one blink and the next, they were back at the studio.

====-====-====-====

“No Bendipe? Who died to make that happen?” Norman asked as they circled the center stage. They ignored the oddly posed ink beings in the center as they walked.

“Bendy came to life actually. And not in the sacrificial way as far as I can figure.” Henry responded. They took a few moments to fill Norman in as best they could. And though some portions of the story were left out, it was enough to clue him in, and what allowed him to be the first to notice something different. His light flickered on the central stage. Alice and Sammy went to find the books that would open the door.

“Henry? Are…Is there something off about that stage?” He asked, as Cuphead hopped onto the table to reach a book.

“What? Not that I can tellloh wait… Hey Sammy! Sammy come here!”

“What?”

“Are there less red-light green-light players on that stage?”

“Uh… Well damn, there a—”

“ _Motherfucker!”_

The trio turned as Alice bashed one of the very ink statues they’d been looking for across the face, leaping away from the outstretched arms. One of the clenched hands had strands of black hair dangling from it.

Something slammed into Sammy’s back, and he whirled around, livid that something would attack him. That was immediately accompanied by him hacking out a ‘holy fuckin shit!’ The ink statue remained with arms outstretched, one holding a wrench. Henry eyed the hand a mere breath where his neck had been. Norman’s light narrowed as he observed the trio of hands outstretched for the various wires dangling off him.

“That—”

“Henry!” Alice shouted a warning. Henry twisted, flinching, bringing the gun up to block a swing that hovered above his head. The ink statues around them, frozen, didn’t respond even when Sammy ripped the wrench away from it. “Come over this way, I think they stay still when you—” A gunshot, and the statue that was just slipping hands into her hair was obliterated. Cuphead, perched on top of the book cases, glared at the remains. Alice inched away, face pale.

“Henry, they’re blocking the way, one of the books is behind them.” Sammy leaned towards Henry without moving his gaze from the trio of ink statues.

“Henry, Bendy’s still missing!” Cuphead called out. An ink statue was promptly lifted above the humans’ head, and used to make a path.

====-====-====-====

Bendy wrung his bowtie nervously, weakly calling out for Henry as he shakily ambled down the hall. The only answer he received was a searcher, springing up from the puddle of ink by him to take a swipe at his leg. He squealed, legs pinwheeling in the air until his shoes caught the wood and he shot off like a rocket, crying out for Henry the entire time.

Something tripped him, sending him tumbling into a wall instead of the turn in the hall as he’d been about to respond to. The wall shook upon impact, and something fell blocking the searchers way. It was a cutout, staring at him with blank, pie-cut eyes.

He stared back, body shivering, ink staining white gloves pressed to either side of a ducked down head. The searcher froze, then shuffled away, as if the cardboard was an impenetrable barrier. And Bendy, pieces of him finally stronger than the knee-jerk reaction—and frankly sick of said knee-jerk reaction—rose up.

He stared at his own face, and it stared back.

The searcher, absolutely okay with taking a swing at him of all toons, refused to even just push the cutout to the side. His other face, his true face, did what he hadn’t. He was lost in a place that was making great strides in being sure they learned the hard way that the theater was not the studio. The theater wasn’t nearly as forgiving or robotic. Not near as lifeless despite stuffed to near bursting with countless souls like the studio was. It actively took detectable joy in making them freak out, panic. And evidently, it wasn’t going to get any better.

He stood, trying to step over the cutout, and the moment he did, the searcher whirled around, burbling at him, lunging. He fell back, toppling over the cutout, nearly sobbing with relief when his clumsiness didn’t break the barrier between him and pain.

He stared at his own face, and it stared back.

Perfect smile, perfectly friendly looking. Perfect bowtie, not a drop of ink to be seen on it. Perfect horns and pristine white face. Perfectly white gloves on perfectly modeled sides. Bendy didn’t have to look down to know his bowtie was off center again, that his gloves were even more stained, that his face had smears of ink on it now. He curled back up, looking at the perfect version both he and Jendy were supposed to emulate.

He stared at his own face, and it stared back.

Alone, with no one else, in a cold, callous building likely rubbing its metaphorical hands together as it cobbled together a new plan to torment him with. He figured where he was as safe as it was going to get, as none of the doors had opened for him when he’d tried.

Bendy thought. He let his mind wander, scrubbing cobwebs off the ol’ hamster wheel. The lights above flickered, and far—far—down the hall, he could make out the shadows swirling around Jendy as the toon strolled by, animatedly whistling a merry tune, disappearing from view later. Of course, the second he’d appeared, the searcher had scrambled into the puddle it had emerged from, bubbling out a panicked noise. Bendy immediately recognized how his own body was covered, hidden from view by the cutout.

He stared at his own face, and it stared back.

Anger welled up in him. Whatever it came from, be it the souls, the cutouts, the magic, or the ink, it burst in his chest, and he lashed out. The cutout shattered, the searcher reappeared, and Bendy went from angry to frightened so fast it felt like someone flipped a switch in him. He ducked his head down, popping it back up immediately after, hoping the old habit cutouts had of repairing themselves when no one important was looking would hold true.

He stared at his own face, and it stared back.

The searcher didn’t leave however, now staring at him as well. It almost appeared to be waiting for him to slip up again so it could finally get its hands on him. He sucked in a shaky breath, shifting until he could get his legs back under him.

“This sucks.” His own voice startled him. After he’d jolted, he gnashed his teeth, enraged at himself. He was starting to get tired of switching between all the various portions of himself. Especially the one that stared back at him, perfect smile _perfectly_ in place. So, he grinned back, matching the smile just as perfectly, popping up to his feet to mirror the pose. The searcher hissed at him. He flinched, and ink began to drip down into his eyes.

“You think yer so tough.” Bendy hissed back, wiping the ink away, fury warring with fear. “But I bet if Henry were here you’d be runnin for the hills.” The searcher hissed, inching closer. Bendy’s pose weakened, hands sliding from hips, one foot stepping back. He puffed up his chest, catching sight of the edge of a perfectly white bowtie, and stepped forward again, stomping his foot down at the searcher. It groaned, throwing itself around the cutout finally. He would have screamed had the shadows not writhed around, one tendril lashed out.

“That’s not how ya do it.” Before he could jump, a hand, a pristine white glove, snatched his shoulder, holding him in place. “ _This is how.”_ The searcher bubbled, choked, squirmed weakly before bursting within the grip of the ink. Bendy snapped his teeth at the hand, angry it wrenched away in time to avoid losing fingers. Even more angry when Jendy laughed at him. “Ain’t my fault yer terrible at this!” He got out between mocking laughter. Bendy took a few steps back, and flailed as the cutout tripped him. Toppling over, he let out an ‘oof!’. Jendy clutched his stomach, laughter growing louder.

“Well at least one of us has t’ be him! And it sure ain’t you!” Bendy snarled, scrambling up. Jendy choked, grin twitching, but not falling.

“Aww shucks, thanks! I try.” He fluffed his sharper, off-kilter bowtie, puffing his own chest out. “If ya wanted to have a ‘who’s closer to the flat tire on the ground’ contest, I’d have accepted. And you’d have won too! Cause I sure ain’t interested in acting like _him_ if _you’re_ the example. Fairly certain I’d’a gone bonkers a _long_ time ago.” Jendy paused, grin twitching as he pondered an alternate universe where he went above and beyond to mimic the cartoons.

“Sides, I ain’t keen on holing up in what used t’ be. Not here, not where it don’t matter what I do.” Jendy gestured around loosely, gaze focused on Bendy. “I know what’s goin’ through that head of yers. Yer thinkin’ ‘I gotta be perfect for Henry! I gotta be exactly how _Bendy_ was so he’ll like me!’ Jendy shifted his outer appearance, matching the cutout between them perfectly. “Creator has ta’ love me if I do as he dictated! Let’s just forget that years have passed and Henry ain’t never called that dastardly Jendy wrong because he ripped spines outta fleshy sorts!’”

He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially to the other who stood frozen. “I think it was because Joey can’t create fer shit. Exhibit A is behind ya.” Bendy glared, not wanting to turn until a heavy thud crushed the tense—at least to Bendy—silence. He jerked around, flailing at how Boris appeared in his vision, close and angry.

“Did you just call yourself dastardly?”

“Doll! I uh—no?” Jendy tugged on his bowtie, face blooming bright with a blush. Boris growled at them until his eyes fell on the dark blue toon. Mugman arched a brow, hands on hips, shadow growing darker and darker. Boris paused long enough for Mugman to return his focus to Jendy. He even went so far to brush a few wrinkles out of his shendyt, blatant in his lack of care or fear towards the hound. That only let the warped hound start growling.

“Don’t ever call yourself that again. It’s… pardon, but would you mind leaving? I’d like to—” The hound’s growling grew the moment golden eyes fell on him. Jendy bristled, stepping in front of the other.

“Just who d’ ya think yer growling at ya fleabag!”

Boris’s voice rose sharply, hackles raising higher, enough to show a new set of chompers keen on digging into ink. Bendy, the one closest, immediately bolted, scampering over Jendy to put more distance between him and the hound. The two demons toppled, Jendy far too surprised to carry the sudden weight. They fell at Mugman’s feet, groaning as the growling turned into wall-rattling snarling. Golden eyes flashed as the porcelain toon looked down at them, entirely ignoring Boris. The reason for it became clear when a sharp bang eclipsed even Boris’s growl, a light fell on them all, and the group emerged, footsteps thundering down the hall. Boris burst like a balloon, ink splattering the walls, ceiling, and floor.

“Oh my.” Mugman put a hand to his mouth, golden gaze remaining rather bored. That is, until he caught sight of his brother as the remains of Boris toppled over. The two under him looked up just past the edge of the toons shendyt, watching his eyes flicker, ultimately settling on nervous.

“ _Oh Mugsy, there you are.”_ Cuphead’s voice rumbled, tone wrathful, face dark.

The two under him watched the deity shift his weight, just the slightest.

“ _Y’ think that was funny? Scaring me like that?”_ The golden glow of Mugman’s eyes once more flashed, and a nervous lilt to his smile appeared.

“Now, my _amazing_ brother, I never said that—”

“Three.”

Without hesitation, Mugman moved. He was down the hall before either ink demon could even begin to understand how someone could move so fast. Then, three seconds later, Cuphead was leaping over them, eyes burning, feather burning, murder pouring off him.

“ _Let’s see how funny it is when I’m hiding your head!”_

_“Don’t you dare!”_

The hall fell silent for a good minute as two ink demons slowly blinked at the now empty hall, seemingly not caring about being in a heap. Henry’s face was slowly turning redder, lips crunching in his effort to keep from laughing. It was Alice that ultimately spoke.

“Oh they’re _both_ idiots.”

Sammy rubbed where the bridge of his nose would be, muttering into his hand.  Norman’s shoulder shook as his light rattled. Jendy broke first, shaking Bendy off of him and dipping into the ink. Though he did pop back up a moment after Bendy got to his feet, just to smack him, and fled back into the ink.

Bendy squawked in indignation, rubbing the back of his head, grumbling at the ink puddle while doing so. Henry burst, falling to his knees as his ribs groaned under the force of his laughter.

“They looked up!” He wheezed, fist slapping the floor repeatedly.

“Henry we don’t have time for this. With every second Mugman is in the ink, he could be losing whatever he’s got for brain cells!” Alice nudged him, notably lacking any sense of urgency in her voice. “Just look what it did to those two!”

“That ain’t real angelic of you!” Bendy whined.

“I’m fallen! I don’t have to be nice!”

====-====-====-====

Upon reaching the room where the lost soul that bitched out loud appeared, those with shoes removed one of them preemptively. The theater, not understanding, let the scene play. The soul came out, looked out over the balcony, and was pelted by shoes, the others without footwear booing.

“Bring back the classics!”

“I didn’t get high off ink fumes to see this, I want my immortal soul back! Where’s your manger!”

“Get off the stage you hack!”

It watched them. The audience watched them. The ink watched them. The ink proceeded to look at the theater with a ‘you see this? This is what I’ve been dealing with. Do something.’ To which the theater responded by dropping the thrown shoes back down on them, and fixing up a few things it thought had been too extreme.

====-====-====-====

The group was prepared to see the sea of lost souls in the next room, joke about the ‘no angels’ scrawled on the wall, and press on. Instead what they got was an empty room. Or, mostly empty. In the center, crouched down, stood another Hammy. Sammy took a step forward, and was promptly lifted up, and plopped back down behind Alice. She didn’t break out the tommy gun.

She didn’t scream or shout.

She calmly strolled closer, stopping once the muttering from the other stopped.

“Betrayed.” Hammy spoke.

“I know the feeling.” Alice responded plainly.

“I gave you everything!” Hammy shouted.

“Not yet you haven’t. But you will.” Alice stomped her heel onto an ink splotch, and a sword kicked up out of it. “ _you will.”_

Henry and Norman covered Sammy’s face, shielding him as cries for mercy rose up amidst the sound of metal cutting into ink, into places it _never_ should have gone.

====-====-====-====

When Sammy’s eyes were uncovered, Alice had a mask on her hip, held there via strip of cloth that looked eerily similar to his pant fabric.

“Got that out of your system?” Henry asked.

Alice hummed lightly. “No. But I distinctly recall Norman losing to the jackass as well. I’m a nice gal, so you can have the next one.” Norman perked up, Sammy tried to figure out how the splatter reached the ceiling considering the height of the place.

====-====-====-====

They caught up with Cuphead. He sat quietly on the couch, tinged green, eyes gold, feather softly illuminating dingy fabric. He glanced up at them, getting back to his feet, subdued, quiet.

“I can’t get the doors open.” Was all he said, gesturing to the doors blocking off the poorly started amusement park. The tallest of the group shot looks at one another, at least, in their own ways.

“Well the fantastic news is we get to see the terrible amusement park again!” Henry tried, and was rewarded with a loose smile. A smile that fell as the building burst into a fit of whispered glee.

====-====-====-====

“Get back here! You can’t run forever!” Cuphead shouted, lunging forward in a bid to grab one of the strips of fabric closest to him. Mugman twisted enough to avoid being snatched up, body moving in a familiar way, used to the game they were playing.

“Technically I can.” Mugman shot back, but not quite how he usually did. Cuphead pinned that on the ink, and, taking advantage of the glitter of gold from the glance sent back at him, he dove. One unfortunate blob of ink later, the pair were on the ground, with Mugman on the bottom, hauling himself up until his arms were pinned by linen Cuphead tore from his own outfit. Despite his attempts, Mugman had never been stronger than Cuphead. It was easy for the red cup to bat away the attempts to grab his handle or interfere with being rendered unable to run.

“Good luck running underwater.” Cuphead ground out, anger far outweighing the parts of him falling into nervous, worried silence. Normally Mugman went limp. In a way, he’d almost trained himself to do so after losing their game of tag, finding it easier to get revenge later than at the moment. Its’ what usually made Cuphead’s actions careful, well aware he was on thin ice, and any step too far into the prank or sibling fight would result in either a cracked brother, or him spending hours trying to find his own head.

Before dying and becoming gods, the game would always end in Cuphead gleefully eating two flavored ice chips rather than one. Of course, later that day he’d been told butterflies ate blood, and then he’d died, which, by all accounts, out did any revenge Mugman could have added to the butterfly comment.

This time however, after the fourth hand to the face, ire eclipsed all else, and he yanked the one free hand down, intent on tying his brother’s head to his own chest so he couldn’t see, and would perhaps stop and let Cuphead go about figuring out how to fix him.

“Cuphead don’t! That won’t work!” Mugman’s voice, drenched in fear, steeped in desperation, did little to chip at the irritated sibling in red.

“You’re covered in ink, I’m not buying it.” Being so close to his sibling, he was able to draw enough power to circumvent the theater’s block. The shadows grew wet, with Mugman sinking, thin wrist held tight in Cuphead’s hand yanking to the point of cracking. He caught sight of terrified blue eyes, of tears pouring down stained cheeks.

“ _Feather!”_

The shadow rumbled, a great gold eye opened below them, and the next thing Cuphead knew, he was in front of the giant Bendy statue, his Domain snarling at him in ways it had never done before. It sounded _livid_ — _was livid_ —biting out harsh, scolding words that cut into him. Thoroughly chastised, he’d shakily crawled to the couch, rattling softly as his Domain hissed at him. And there he stayed until Henry and the rest caught up.

====-=====-====-====

The group moved upstairs, intent to move on, get the show over with once more, before the theater had any more time to come up with new ways to make them miserable.

“Just think about the next run through the studio, Henry! It’ll be rainbows and star shine compared to what we’ve gone through here!”

“I feel out of the loop, because thus far I haven’t seen anything truly terrifying or unnerving or awe inspiring beyond Alice showing me how to peel bones from something that shouldn’t have bones!”

“Norman, kindly zip your speaker before the place—” The walls shuddered, and if they didn’t know any better they’d have believed the place was snickering at them.

“Too late.”

_“Shit.”_

They reached the upstairs with no further incidents despite the walls around them feeling far more hostile than before. An eager sort of malice that ushered Sammy to hurriedly flip the switch, none even bothering to listen to the tape they’d listened to a thousand times.

Hustling downstairs, wincing at the loud creaks that caused the whispers bursting up around them to rise higher still in volume, but never escaping the definition of murmur or mutter.

Jendy stood at the entrance, back in his taller form, looking down at them all, eyes narrowing further still upon landing on Cuphead. His lip curled back, teeth flashing in the light.

“I don’t know what ya did t’ make my Doll so upset. But you better thank ‘im the next you see ‘im. I don’t got a problem seeing how close I can get to killing a god, and out of all of em? You’re at the top of the hit list.”

Cuphead narrowed his own eyes, fists tight enough the porcelain cracked. “Quit calling him that. He’s my brother, you stay out of it.” The deity snapped.

“I’ll call my Doll whatever I want considering you ain’t got ground t’ stand on. Ey! But I didn’t come here lookin to end fights. I came ‘ere to welcome ya to the grand opening!” The whispers and lights cut out, just for a breath. Once back on, Jendy appeared exactly how Bendy looked, and now wore a fancy, colorful jacket and vest. He spun a cane he now had, stepping back lightly to gesture to the dark entry into the amusement park area. With a flourish, a top hat was in one hand, and he tipped it to them, grin wide.

“I know for a fact we both know that what’s through those doors is nothing but disappointment.” Henry intoned. Jendy merely tipped his head and strolled into the darkness. The group figured they’d follow, mostly because there was literally nothing else to do.

Once they were all in, the doors slid shut behind them, and the world went pitch black, falling silent. Standing in the dark, confused and waiting to see if Jendy would take that time to attack them. Norman’s light did nothing, and he shut it off after thirty seconds of looking around, hoping that the area was simply too dark to see without eyes adjusting. After a solid two minutes of nothing happening, Sammy spoke up.

“Who forgot to pay the electricity bills?”

“I gotta hand it to the place. The worlds first void park is a pretty innovative idea.”

“I demand a refund!”

“Henry!”

“Wh—” Out in the darkness, a string of lights began to turn on. The group followed the string as it slowly illuminated a Ferris wheel sitting off in the distance, far farther, and larger, than it had any right to be.

“Oh _shit.”_

Another string of lights, immediately once the Ferris wheel was fully lit up, clicked on. Then another, and another.

“Fuck my life.”

Soon, the darkness closest to them was the last thing to start lighting up. As the lights rose on a structure eerily close to film reels, with one boasting an outline of a bone, another a halo, and the central one, a bow tie. Bright lights of numerous shades and colors, filling their eyes near painfully with streaks of neon and halogen.

Bendy Land stood before them, and as they all attempted to recollect their thoughts, the world bloomed with sound.

“That’s two people who can’t ever talk again.” Alice moaned, slapping her forehead, glaring at Henry and Norman.

Chipper music filled the air. Popcorn, cotton candy, fried foods, and the faint scent of machinery wafted over. Then the whispers returned, becoming louder and then merging, filling the world with life. The world started to grow brighter from above, until the sky turned blue, until fluffy white clouds floated merrily overhead, until warm sunlight bloomed down on them.

Watching people never seen before, wearing all manner of clothes from all manner of time frames stroll by, arm in arm for some, patiently watching children scamper around green grass and lush trees for others. The group stared, and stared some more.

Then Sammy reached over and smacked Henry on the back of the head. Cuphead and Bendy both looked ahead with stars in their eyes, leaning forward, clearly eager to dart on ahead to the ticket booths. Norman ushered them forward, not wanting Sammy to come after him too. The rest followed, minds struggling to follow how they’d gone from a pitch-black room to a bright, sunny world.

They caught up after easing around people that clearly noticed them, stepping aside when they approached without stopping what they were doing. It was simultaneously freaky and normal at the same time.

====-====-====-====

“If I haven’t said how great this place is, I deeply apologize.” Jendy spoke aloud as he lazily strolled along the bright white pathways, following the crowds wherever he pleased. He mimicked the pose of many of the people he saw out and about, pulling Mugman’s hand up so it could rest on his elbow. The two walked at a sedate, comfortable pace, simply observing everything. Jendy glanced down at the map that had fluttered down into his vision, snickering at the clear—if a bit rough, as if formed by nature and taken advantage of by imaginary builders—outline of Bendy’s head the entire park sat on. There was even a train track that went between the land that would make up Bendy’s horns.

“It’s great, it truly is, you’re amazing!” He called out, raising his voice so the building would hear. A few people nearby chuckled or huffed at his antics, and Mugman’s lips quirked up in a smile. Peering down at the quaint little map, Jendy eyed the various rides, curious to see if they’d truly work. He already knew to avoid the one titled ‘Bertrum’ for obvious reasons. And he wasn’t keen on being run into by the gang so soon. So he looked at the upper area of the left horn on the paper, spying a ‘Heaven’s Ring’ carousel that seemed the safest bet. Turning, shifting his bent arm so he wouldn’t lose the cool hand resting on his lower arm. Mugman dutifully followed, steps lighter than before, shadow darker than before.

====-====-====-====

The people at the ticket booths, all wearing bowties, greeted the two toons naturally. Unsurprising as toons of various species moved in and out of view. Even Norman and Sammy received no pause. They were all handed maps. Henry squint at the woman who gave him his. Part of him felt he’d seen her before, but she was moving on to the next guest before he could ask, and his brain child was darting off into the crowd.

 

Alice called out to Bendy, irritated, but unable to muster up any actual bite to her voice as she looked around, eyes wide, face flushed with pure awe. She wasn’t the only one. Norman and Sammy, despite being quite good at keeping up with the toons, had clear signs of awe. Sammy’s being the easiest as his mask now had starry eyes.

Henry understood it. They’d been trapped in the studio for what could have been decades, seeing nothing but sepia toned everything. To go from dark, bland walls to a grand amusement park bursting with life and sound and light, he’d have been more surprised if they’d not reacted at all. Going through the front gates, they found themselves between two roller coasters. Great wooden bodies making up what appeared to be Bendy’s smile, cars full of screaming guests, smiles clear even from seventy-five feet below, where the group was.

“Epitome and Machination. Huh.” Henry read from the map, scratching his head as he flipped his gaze between the map and the world. Directly in front of him, hugging more towards the left of the larger horn, the Ferris Wheel towered above all else, the tallest Henry had ever seen. It was styled like a halo, with grand, cartoony wings sprouting to the sides of the center of the wheel. In front of it was a water ride, crystal clear water splashing their way as black cars, painted with Boris’ overalls, rocked through. Close by was the darkened pavement of a splash zone, and all avoided it, unsure how the ink would take being drenched with water. 

The old mill ride, dubbed ‘Howler Falls’ had elements of Boris, including animatronic Boris’s waving from a picturesque watermill. To the right of the free-moving boat ride was ‘Devil’s Swing’, which appeared to be a whip like ride. Straight between the rides sat little booths dotting the pathways, some contained games, others contained food and beverages. Henry could just make out the trio of games that originally sat in the old entrance to the defunct, barely started amusement park in the studio.

But what also caught his attention was the fact that he could clearly see the arms belonging to Bertrum peeking out from behind Howler Falls. He started to go that way, but the toons had already chosen to go another, heading for Devil’s Swing instead.

“Cuphead! Shouldn’t you be looking for Mugman?” Alice called out, trotting to catch up to the rest of them. Henry stayed back a bit, growing more and more sure he knew a few of the faces in the crowd, but unsure of where he’d seen them.

“I know he’s here!” Cuphead shouted back, wordlessly choosing to give Mugman a breather.  Mostly on the grounds that if Jendy was livid, it was likely that what he’d done was bad enough that approaching now would only end in him regretting life. Especially with the way his own Domain hissed at him still.

The two toons got to the ride first, watching as cars attached to arms attached to an oval track where whipped around the round portions. Women laughed, holding their hats or headscarves. Men chuckled, holding the lap bar, acting as anchors those on the other side could slide into without hitting the plush seats arm. Sleek black cars, with Bendy’s smile above snazzy, glittering bowties, zipped and rocked around. When they’d gotten to the booth, the woman servicing them had simply smiled at them, stamping their hands, giving them no clues as to how they’d get onto the rides.

It was a worker, catching sight of them, who ushered them over, gesturing with a big grin to the little line now streaming into the ride, boarding cars. Norman and Sammy followed after, and Alice and Henry chose to wait on the sidelines, looking at the map, listening to the joyful laughter.

“What on earth happened to bring us to a place that can do _this_?” Alice whispered to Henry. He knew he’d explained it already, or rather, Bendy and Cuphead had, but apparently, she was in such disbelief she couldn’t wrap her head around it. Henry, who’d seen the outside of the building, couldn’t either.

“I have no clue, but I’m telling you now, no theater is ever going to match up to this one. I don’t even mind being an actor if this is the set we get to be on.”

“Praising the place now?”

“Are you seeing this? Alice, I know damn well when I’m not on my home turf. It’s playing a new game and I have no idea what the rules are. It’s ass-kiss central from here on out.” He replied, peering up as Bendy’s high-pitch, gleeful laughter spilled out of the toon. Sammy shouted how Norman was too heavy, pinned to the side of the car, dramatically squirming as if pinned by a great weight. Norman responded by throwing himself into the next round spin.

“Act your part.” The two leaning on the fence jolted, turning to face who’d spoken. Alice paled, knees shaking, chest stuttering. Susie gave her a cool smile, and returned her gaze to Henry. “Play the crowd, perform like never before, and I’ll let you find my child. Improvisation is fine as long as you don’t forget,” Her face darkened, her polite expression warped. “You’re in my walls, on _my stage_ , not in some scrappy little building hardly worth half what I am. Play nice Henry Stein, don’t disappoint me.” Turning gracefully on her heel, she started to walk away, only for her wrist to be grabbed by Alice.

The true, original face of Susie looked at the current version, warped and twisted by ink. She sighed, pressing a gentle hand to the broken part of Alice’s face. Henry choked on spit as, between one blink and the next, the demonic side was gone, a mirror of the angelic side, smooth but pale, greeted him.

“Such promise,” The thing whispered forlornly. “So much you could have been had your insanity not led to your punishment, and your current state. I could do endless things with you if you were one of mine.” She wiped a tear from a soft cheek with the pad of her thumb. “Shh now, perform well, and I’ll see what I can do, fair deal?” She nodded, and copying the motion, a ghostly white Alice followed. Susie smiled wide, gently turned Alice and Henry back to the ride, and when they looked back, she was gone. Alice was still sickly pale when the rest of the group approached them. Alice had one hand pressed to the demonic side of her face, her other hand clenching the metal gate hard enough for ink to drip from her hand.

“Alice?” Bendy called out, tugging at the edge of her dress.

“Did strangers insult your face?” Sammy asked, “Because I’ve got no problem shoving their heads into walls as violently as I can. I’ll do it! Norman, won’t I?”

“No doubt.” Norman replied plainly.

“No! No…” Alice shook her head, sucking in a breath, letting it out shakily and slowly. “We should…” She cleared her throat, voice cracking, “get going. The studio had us finding levers all over the damn place. We can’t forget that.” She strode off, head high, pace firm. Sammy and Norman looked at Henry. Henry shook his head silently, lips pressed tightly together.

====-====-====-====

The futuristic rotor ride, ‘Spinneret’ made Sammy show everyone how an ink creature threw up. Bendy kept staggering into people and walls like a drunk. Cupheads body rattled audibly as he jittered about, giggling at something none with flesh and blood could understand. Norman just shifted his head, as if stretching his neck. Likely because once the ride got going, once the floor dropped out from below them, his head had thunked to the side and he’d been forced to blind people next to him as physics worked its magic on them all. Henry groaned, feeling all the cricks in his back vanish. He wound up going on again, citing one last stubborn achy part on his back. Alice held the gate tightly, determined not to embarrass herself the way Bendy was.

Once finished, they trekked to the next thing on the map. Disappointed toons huffed at the walls stuffed to the brim with trinkets and trifles covered in Joey Drew Studio’s characters. Though, they did find a bit of fun looking through the history room. Henry squinted at the trio of ink creatures cooing over old photos that included him.

“He had such round cheeks!” Alice cooed.

“He’s the shortest in the department. Look! Christine even towers over him!” Sammy guffawed.

“Your smile says ‘get out of my office before I stab you, but your posture screams ‘I’ve been awake for twenty-four hours and counting and if one of you blinks wrong at the page I’m working on I’m using your blood to finish it’.” Norman observed.

“Look Bendy, it’s your father when he was just a fresh fella out of school! Aww, you get your smile from him!”

“I don’t think I’ve captured how to display that level of dead-inside yet.”

“Bendy, you spend hours upon hours doing nothing but drawing, to include sudden script changes, and you’ll get that in a heartbeat. Jendy’s got that shit down pat, it’s only a matter of time before you do.”

“Oh its…” Norman paused at the next little booth. Falling silent, he slowly reached a hand up to the glass, inky fingers hovering above the photo of the projectionist’s human form. Sammy followed behind, mask frowning.

“I never got how you got that damn thing working. Remember how that was the first projector we had, and it only ever worked with you?” He spoke, voice carefully playful. Norman’s other hand reached up to the very projector now giving him sight, hearing, and sentience.

“Yeah… I do.” The speaker crackled.

Sammy took seeing his old face better, tilting his head towards Alice. “I agree, I was very handsome.” He teased, nudging her arm. She rolled her eyes playfully, nudging back.

“You also cried the first time I sang.”

“I thought I was going to have a screechy banshee to write music for! You got any idea how willing I was to throw down with Drew if you sounded anything like that other toon? I was going to write Alice’s songs with his blood if he was going to make me write soprano for every damn song.”

It was enough banter to pull the projectionist back, and enough to get them to press on, all casting glances back at old faces despite moving away.

Alice was the first to spot the little bowtie on one of the only closed doors in the building. Confused, she tried the handle, curious enough to ignore the ‘employees only’ sign. While the men scrounged around—

“Do any of you see something saying who came up with Alice? Who came up with the butcher gang! I gotta know who Joey owes child support to so I can avenge them!”

“Hey look, that’s me! I’m moving, Henry!”

“That’s a test animation.”

“This looks like original sheet music. Who fuckin’ scrounged around my drawers? What the hell!”

“Nowhere does this damn place tell me what Alice was supposed to do other than be a girl in a cartoon studio full of demons and dogs. This is, thus far, the single disappointment of this park, however small a disappointment it is.”

The lights flickered, and then went off. The friendly chatter outside stopped. The group froze, Norman’s light casting the only illumination in the room.

“Henry you kiss this buildings ass right the fuck now.” Sammy hissed. Alice emerged from the room, frowning.

“I found one of the switches.” She gestured behind her, voice low, as if reading the atmosphere and understanding things had changed.

“Drive-in theaters ain’t got shit on you.” Henry started. “Is it just me or are you the finest piece of architecture this side of the Parthenon and Pyramids? Shakespeare would come back from the dead just to see stuff played on this stage. The Globe is a shack compared to you. The amphitheaters fawn over you. You—” Alice smacked a hand over his mouth, and turned to give Bendy a deadpan look.

“You got your ability to flirt from the guy too, and for that, I’m sorry.”

A soft hiss emerged from outside, back in the main room. Norman flicked his light off. Sammy crouched low, easing closer to the entryway. World far darker than before, with ghosts of light weakly reaching thin fingers through the once luminous windows, all strained their hearing.

A low hum.

A barely-there wheeze.

A reedy groan.

Nothing else.

Sammy shrieked as he was suddenly grabbed by un unseen foe and dragged out of the room. Henry cursed, sprinting out to follow, wrench in hand. Norman kicked his light back on, and as it fell on the room, it illuminated half rotted corpses in varying states of mottled rot. What was worse was that the creatures only fell into view within his light, outside, they were invisible. Alice heaved, stumbling away from the thing closest to her. Ink dripped from claw marks in the woman’s face. Norman, hearing a loud bang, followed by Henry’s pained cry and Sammy’s scream, let out a shriek of his own, slamming one of his heels down.

The souls backed away, moaning in pain. Norman tore the nearest display up, swinging it at the group near Alice. As they toppled over, and as Bendy—who now clung to Cuphead, screaming his head off as hands reached closer for him and Cuphead—let out another scream, a window was shattered, spilling far more light into the building. The ghosts—undead—illusions, none were sure, faded, falling to the ground, turning to ink. Sammy shouted for the rest to get to the door. Henry leaned heavily on him, blood pouring from a gash on his forehead.

The entities bared blackened teeth, not affected as the others were by light, swiped at the prone form in the songwriter’s arms. Before it could make contact, Bendy was on it, teeth cracked open, reverberating growls pouring from his mouth. His teeth shredded the things face, cutting straight through bone that turned to ink. He lunged at another, then another, clearing a path for the rest with brutal efficiency. The souls turned into searchers as the ink writhing on the floors touched them. Even then, they stood zero chance against the whirlwind ripping pieces of them away. Thanks to that, Sammy managed to kick the door down, spilling more light in the room. The moment the doors burst open, all movement from inside froze. Souls didn’t vanish, but melted away, slipping into the floor.

The gang raced out as Sammy got Henry to drink the rest of the potion from before. Henry groaned, uncaring of the way the building behind them turned dark, as if night had fallen over it and it alone. Bendy pulled a handkerchief from behind himself, offering it up to Henry, worry radiating from his petite body. Henry pat Bendy on the head, taking his weight from Sammy, groaning about needing the Spinneret again. Considering it still worked, and seemed unphased by the thing affecting the shop, they were both thankful and nervous all at once.

“Well, we found the catch.” Sammy grumbled as the group sat on benches under lush trees thick with flowers. Bendy whined, holding Henry’s hand as his creator laid with his head on Alice’s lap. He’d dazedly mentioned needing a minute or three to rest his eyes, body aching for sleep. Norman stood behind the bench the two were using like a silent guardian, light chasing people away without them ever outright showing being nervous of the Projectionist.

Sammy kept an eye on Bendy and Cuphead. Once it appeared that Henry had fully fallen asleep, Bendy let go of his hand, carefully moving it over his stomach to rest comfortably. Alice frowned; eyes keen on the downtrodden group surrounding her.

“Henry and I won’t be moving any time soon, and I don’t know about you, but if this place is willing to give us a brief reprieve like this? I’d take it. We have to find the switches, but nothing says they’ll be right out there,” She paused, making sure she caught the toons eyes. “I see no harm in having whatever fun you can. Look for the switches, there should be…” She paused, brows furrowed. Sammy picked up her train of thought easily.

“Well four switches to send power to four more switches on a board. But they aren’t on a board, and that place lost…daylight apparently.” The musician’s head turned to take in the neon lights, mixed with the artful stream of bulbs merrily aglow despite the bright sunlight. He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that the shadows all matched what the artificial lights cast, and not what they should have, namely, the sun.  “So it’s safe to say eight at the most. Nine if you count the big throw switch. Come on you two, Norman’s the best guard in the world, they’ll be fine.” He held out his hands, and the two took them, letting the taller ink being guide them towards the bumper cars.

====-====-====-====

Sammy had his attention split between Bendy—who was dominating the bumper cars like the little hellion he could be—and Cuphead, who was winning toy after toy in the game booths beside the bumper car area. He’d rode around for a little while, but grew too anxious with his inability to watch Cuphead while sending a car with a little boy squealing in circles. Sure, he cackled the entire time he did so, even when the boys parents tried to defend their son. Which ended in Bendy and Sammy taking down every other rider so spectacularly the ride operator had to shakily gesture to the ship swinging on a pendulum next to the cars, right on the edge of the right horn according to the map and the visual cues.

Sammy gladly took the offer for what it was, leaving Bendy to maniacally laugh his way around cars, banking and drifting in ways he didn’t think the cars were designed to do. Cuphead eventually wandered back over, chest puffed up, head high.

“I won all the prizes.” He told Sammy casually, lightly, as if that was an everyday thing.

Sammy clapped.

“Bendy! Want to go on that ride now?” The musician called out over the squeal of rubber and cries of children. Bendy just about vibrated out of the seat, eyes gleaming with stars, watching the great ride reach its peak height. ‘Fishers Fate’, painted like a grand ship with gorgeous carvings along the rails and windows. Almost flipping entirely 180 degrees, the thing easily caught the focus of the two toons. Even Sammy wanted to see what it was like.

Of course, he hadn’t forgotten to search for levers, and he suspected one of them was hidden within the rafters of the bumper cars, or ‘Burnin’ Butchers’. Unsure of how he’d get to it with all the mayhem, he figured he’d wait for Henry to spit ideas onto. For now, Fishers Fate’s massive gears spun and rolled, giving the machine an eerie, yet neat, feel and sound. The ship started to rock, ascending higher and higher. The two toons began to rise off the seats, clinging to the plush metal bars to keep themselves in the seats. Sammy wound up putting his arms around the two of them, sandwiching them to his sides and gripping the bars. They’d chosen the side that offered them a full view of the park, and while Cuphead and Bendy scoured the scenery, Sammy watched for any sight of a lever. He found it on top of the supports keeping the ship stable. He looked at the ceiling, mask a deadpan frown.

====-====-=====-====

Jendy sighed, sleepily smiling as the horse carved with its head curled beautifully high and tilted, moved up and down on the gentle gears. Mugman sat side-saddle on the horse next to him, unable to sit as Jendy did with his shendyt not really being proper for it. Jendy may, or may not, have purposefully picked a horse that sat next to a blue horse specifically because he figured Mugman would like the blue and white stallion. It didn’t hurt that the black and gold stallion he was on was just as appealing to Jendy.

Merry music the cartoon part of him recognized as one of the happier melodies Sammy wrote up played from the central pillar gorgeously decorated with elaborate, far grander carvings of the silly studios characters. Feeling a mite bit curious and a solid amount spiteful towards a certain red cup he knew was somewhere in the park but didn’t care to pinpoint, he eased just the slightest out of his slumped posture.

“Doll.” His voice was airy, not demanding attention, but requesting it, testing for it. Mugman glanced his way, golden gaze patient. When Jendy didn’t follow up or speak after his initial word, the others’ head tilted, straw sliding to the side that was lower.

“Doll.” He said again, firmer, confident. Mugman’s brows furrowed, head tilting the other way. A soft note of confusion answered the ink demon. Eyes falling to half mast, Jendy slumped back down, shaking his head, pleased as could be.

====-====-====-====

‘ _My child’s captor is being weird.’_

_‘I am sorry, but my child is currently trying to leap out of a flying ship to reach a lever.’_

_‘Oh, they are both being…difficult, then.’_

_‘Perhaps normal is the correct word?’_

_‘Perhaps…Your child just broke something?’_

_‘…He is not smart, but I love him all the same.’_

====-====-====-====

Cuphead scooped pieces of his arm and leg up as the ship turned dark, lights kicking on, sun no longer having any effect on it. Those on it melted into ink, snarling. Snapping noises rose from their bodies as they tried to crawl over the bars with their legs still stuck under the safety bar. Sammy and Bendy leapt off right as the ship reached the midway point between swings. The mask’s face was thunderous, Bendy’s was green.

“Hey, it worked didn’t it?”

“Henry’s going to kill me.” Sammy bemoaned, losing his anger under the powerful gaze of earnest red eyes. Eyes that shifted to gold in the next moment, body rapidly repairing itself. The two ink related beings swore they could hear the shadows grumble exactly how a nearby pair of parents did while bandaging their child. Scolding and annoyed, but not to the point that murder was on the table.

“Nah, We’re on Inkwell, its Auntie Bon Bon you’d have to worry about, but I think she’d just shake her head.”

====-====-====-====

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen them, and my ‘Cuphead isn’t doing what he’s supposed to’ senses are tingling.”

“How you have that when I’m the one that raised them, I’ll never know.”

“Zip it and help me get this door open, I’m going out there, I don’t care how bad it is.”

“And what will you do?”

“Find my boys of course!”

“That’s what Chalice is doing! For all we know the trio are just helping Devil clear out Hell.”

Chalice reappeared, form pale.

“They’re in the theater, and its’ lights are on.”

The rest in the room fell silent, grim realization falling on them all. Bon Bon shot up, and had to be restrained by Cagney as she screamed for someone to get her the canons.

====-====-====-====

The trio rejoined Alice and the rest. Cuphead’s face flushed red under Alice’s dirty, yet disappointed, yet annoyed, glare.

“You _do_ know we can see the ship from here, right?” Norman’s light fell on Cuphead, and despite not being the same glow Cuphead’s own magic could produce, it was all too easy to feel judgement just as strong as his own radiating with the light.

“I hit the lever; I don’t see the problem.”

“Why didn’t you just throw a rope to it and pull it that way?” Alice asked. Cupheads’ face turned cherry red, head ducking down to hide his response.

“I didn’t think about that.”

“Norman, you’re babysitting them next.” Sammy intoned. Norman, despite not having eyes, a face, or any true way to emote, somehow managed to gain a far-off look of budding horror in the lens that made up his eyes. Henry laughed, strong and robust, much better now that he was rested.

“We found one in the bumper cars, but hell if I can figure out how to reach it.”

“We could throw Bendy up and he could get it!” Cuphead said. Bendy immediately inched closer to Henry, betrayal in his eyes, offended hand on his chest. Henry rubbed his chin, humming. Bendy’s offended shuffle switched tracks to guide him closer to Sammy.

Sammy leaned down without bending his knees, near featureless face hovering close to Bendy’s “You got a throwable face.” He spoke lowly, drawling, and Bendy hissed.

====-====-====-====

Bendy stared at Henry, eyes big and shiny, lower lip wobbling as he clutched his hands together pleadingly. Henry got into the bumper car, knees giving off great cracks that Henry confidently ignored, much like how he ignored Bendy’s attempts to change Henry’s mind.

The toon started eyeing his creators’ hands around the time the car rolled out, Cuphead and Alice stood on the sidelines. Alice leaned closer to Cuphead.

“I’m surprised none of you thought to just break the ride so it would be a short leap for either Norman or Sammy to get up and get the switch.”

Cuphead blinked.

Bendy wailed as he was thrown up, gloves shredded by nails digging into the fabric that hung just above the hard roof as he caught himself on it.

Alice’s eyes gleamed, the angel part of her gleefully laughed.

The two on the sidelines watched as the ride fell into night, except this time, the cars themselves warped, wide maws cracking plastic jaws open. Henry’s car remained relatively normal. Sammy’s and Norman’s—the single one they’d both scrunched into, bucked under them, intent on booting them out to likely be run over. Henry cackled, gunning it, back hunched as he expertly maneuvered the car around, slamming into the sides of other vehicles. Bendy screeched as he descended, landing in the car Henry abandoned.

Alice glanced behind her, curious to see how the patrons would react. The ground flickered, descending into shadows as the trio of attractions on the horn spread night around and out. As the moonlight brushed along the people, they vanished, giving out mournful sobs and weak cries. In their place stood nothing but barren parkland. Well, mostly barren. Above the noise of the cars, they both heard a clanking noise.

They turned, and Alice nearly lost her head to a violent swing from the animatronic that had originally been broken on a pile of boxes. She screamed, alerting the others battling to escape in the bumper car ring. Cuphead’s hand lit up, intent to open fire.

_Breaking porcelain, heartbreaking sobs, manic laughter, a gaping hole in his brother’s face._

His hands shook, losing their glow. Instead, his body moved, kicking off the gate and attaching to the machines head. It barely shifted under his weight, immediately wrapping cold arms around his ankles and throwing him off. His back hit the operator’s booth, cracking on impact.

====-====-====-====

The Ferris wheel was just as peaceful as the carousel, and just as fun to Jendy. Mugman seemed a bit pale, staying lower in the seat, tightly gripping Jendy’s arm. Jendy had already decided he’d hop off once their basket reached the bottom. But for now, he basked in the cool body pressed against his, still not used to someone seeking comfort from him. For souls in him who once adored that, who adored caring for others, it was a soothing balm on decades of misery.  Of course, right as the basket reached the peak again, the world over the right horn fell dark. Lights glittered below beautifully, reflecting off obsidian pathways that turned back to white outside of the night’s glow.

“Oh so that’s the deal.” He murmured; grin wide. He was ready to enjoy what he could see from the towering ride, flashes of movement and noise from the bumper cars making it clear where the group was. But then his Doll was lunging forward, rocking the car, looking down over the side railing towards the cars. Slit gold eyes ablaze with pure, unadulterated _hatred_ **_burned,_** metal creaking under hands that had been so soft before.

Jendy shuddered, not smiling anymore, wondering just what could make his Doll wear such an expression.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead groaned, chest shifting, shoulders grinding on the shards of porcelain that made up his back. The machine stomped towards him, gears grinding. Light fell on it, and it turned in time to see Norman and Sammy’s car launch over the lip that usually kept cars within the gate without hitting said fence.

They proceeded to show that the lip simply wasn’t up to standards to truly prevent that.

It ate rubber, shattering under the heavy weight of a sparking vehicle. Norman stood, letting out a victory screech. Sammy just about fell over the side of the car, lunging for Cuphead to check on him. Alice used the ink pouring out of the animatronic to form a sword, cutting down the searcher that got too close to her. She glanced out as Henry flew out much the same as the other two had, laughing gleefully as his car crushed someone wearing the freaky Bendy costume. Bendy himself was snatched out of the car he’d landed in by Norman as the car swung by.

Bendy clung to Norman’s arm, babbling incoherently about betrayal and biting. Cuphead lit up in an array of gold showing the extent of the damage. Sammy offered a potion to the toon, but Cuphead only went pale and shook his head. The rest took to defending that spot from the things that had appeared the moment night fell until Cuphead could move. Luckily for them, the moment he was stable enough to get up, and the moment they got out of the glow of night, the creatures vanished.

The rules were being presented to them, and they were understanding it readily.

====-====-====-====

“I wonder if we can still ride those rides.” Jendy rubbed his chin. His other arm once more acted as a perch for Mugman’s. The Ferris wheel’s shadow fell over them still as they strolled along the concession booth section between Bertrum, ‘Reel Wind’—a swing ride that sat half as high as the Ferris wheel, chairs gracefully soaring through the air as it spun—and the Haunted House. All around them, skirts swished, waist coats trailed, children laughed, couples brushed shoulders or held hands. Jendy didn’t say it, but he recognized a hearty number of faces. Mostly because it was hard to forget the first time he learned humans couldn’t survive with their lungs torn out of their rib cages. Or the first time he’d learned he was—in fact—strong enough to crack a skull open with one hand. He wasn’t keen on bringing any of that up however.

Part of him felt that it didn’t matter anyway, his Doll had seen all he’d done, and had decided he’d suffered enough. His Doll was hard to read though, even if Jendy felt he was getting better. For instance, the soft, neutral expression the other wore shifted to a thoughtful, playful one.

“I don’t think that would end peacefully.” Mugman answered, looking at the concession stands as they strode on. Jendy grinned.

It was not a nice grin.

“I think I can handle whatever’s in there. I’m me after all!”

Mugman arched a brow, waving to the stands with his free hand. “But wouldn’t you rather try something that isn’t bacon soup?” Jendy followed the gesture, stopping, letting the crowd flow around the two of them as he finally looked.

“Is it even real? No offense to this place but I got suspicions about the food.” Mugman gained a playfully coy look, glittering gold eyes bright under lashes.

“Says the one who ate thirty-year-old mystery meat soup. But if you’re so frightened, then I suppose I’ll try it on my own.” He slid his arm free, gliding around people to reach the stand. Jendy’s face flushed. He scampered over, stuttering about how he was absolutely not afraid, that wasn’t his trait, that was Bendy, who was far more pathetic than him. Definitely. And to prove it, he took a massive bite out of a cloud of cotton candy. Of course, for someone who’d never eaten something so sugary, it shocked him so badly he started hacking. Or he tried, only to find the sugar had solidified and gunked up his teeth.

Mugman laughed sweetly, taking the remaining treat from the demon and replacing it with water.

The shadow under him grinned.

It was not a nice grin.

====-====-====-====

“I want to put in a vote we don’t touch another lever until we’ve seen the rest of the park.” Henry spoke between heavy gasps for air. Cuphead laid flat on his back by the wall of one of the game booths. Water lapped at his body, barely able to come a centimeter off the ground but rising all the same as something moved under it. What sounded like someone grinding a broken porcelain plate together screeched out every now and again as pieces were relocated and repaired.

In the daylight, the guests that were so vibrantly happy before now wore strained joy. Others wore downturned, angry expressions, shooting dirty looks their way. Others still had glazed looks, staunchly avoiding looking at the night-cast area. Even so, the sounds of hundreds of people surrounded them. Rides, metal and wood alike, creaking as they performed their tasks of bringing joy and adrenaline to countless souls.

The scent had changed. Before, it was oil and steel and sugar. Now, a tinge of ink dotted the air. That, and a salty, metallic smell, like iron. Still, the sun, the blue sky, the merry clouds, the soft voices, all of it was such a far cry from the earlier portions of the theater’s studio, the group—especially ones who’d been trapped in the old studio for decades—were struggling to work up the desire to do what they knew they needed to.

Sammy listened to the tunes drifting along the voices, taken back to a time where he’d patter out little ditties on his prized piano. All the song sheets, the time spent surrounded by instruments, strumming and banging and humming as his world was painted and the cartoons came to life. But more than that, as those who listened gained stars in their eyes. His most prized moments were steeped with Henry and the other animators and writers suddenly bursting out to grab some sheets to write ideas down. Music carrying muses, bringing more cartoons into the world, ones that were guaranteed to amuse, entertain, awe. It had been _wonderful_ in the beginning. But outside this place—outside the illusion—it was nothing but barren walls with none of the original magic from before. None of the warmth, the joy, the sheer abundance of feeling part of a welcoming family. He looked at the dark portion, and marveled that—even drenched in moonlight and neon—the world was still beautiful, melancholy.

Norman watched people, doing as he’d done while he was flesh and blood. He watched them with a dark lens, silent and calm. He adored watching the way machines carried people. The way people carried themselves. The way the world carried itself. There was clear pride and intent in every corner of their new world. From the colorful souls to the colorful booths. Even the pristine white walkways meshed with the moonlight in such a way he could almost picture the aerial view looking like a partially inked Bendy. Which only brought to mind the little concept Henry had done to practice his toon. The one where Bendy brought himself to life, inked himself in, and giving the camera a great big smile as he put his bowtie on with a flourish. He still had the reel, or, whoever got his house had it. He remembered other nice times, many of which were spent between the music department and the animation room. With people watching what his projectors masterfully put out smoothly as could be. With his favorite, his pride and joy, now resting on his shoulders, old gears running just as pristine as the day he’d first gotten it.

Alice kept an eye out for hair that used to be hers—was still hers technically. For eyes on a pretty face she once wore, no demonic malformation marring her features. A long time ago, she could remember frothing at the mouth at the idea of being closer to the girl who’d gotten her such wonderful attention. Alice Angel was the sole reason she’d been taken in by the massive family that was the studio in its heyday. She was the reason Susie had gotten the focus she so cherished. It wasn’t hard to understand her adoration for what amounted to a movie star in her eyes. Alice Angel was a beauty, perfect by all the standards of the crowds, and Susie was part of her. Susie had given her a voice, a song, a way of speaking to those outside the screen. She could recall all the times she stood in the recording booth, listening to Sammy and the lyrics writer scuffle, argue like old friends about how that word sounded horrible in that spot, and why would you use that note group? Susie was human, not machine!

Henry however, hated the idea of being trapped after escaping. He dearly wanted to see his family again. Of course, he’d do everything in his power to include his old family, one turned new by all their time spent dealing with poorly constructed shenanigans. He wasn’t just going to abandon them to their fate, but sitting around wasn’t helping anyone. He wanted out, no matter how neat the park was, he’d seen plenty other amusement parks. He was content to let the rest enjoy it for as long as they needed, as long as they understood he wasn’t going let that time extend out forever. Even if the pretzels sold were astoundingly tasty and just handed to them rather than purchased like all the other patrons had to do. That was answered easily by one pointing to Bendy, then the park, and arching a brow.

Resting by the game booths—still cleaned out of toys hilariously enough—the group were stuck in a sort of limbo. One side of them waited for the one in need of their stationary status to be right as rain once more. The other, hoping they’d never have to leave. Those in the ink were all too aware that, unlike Henry and Bendy, they had no chance of getting out of the theater. They couldn’t fathom how the studio was even letting them be where they were, considering they were once the main source for feeding the place. But then, they wondered if the studio was destroyed while they were here, if they’d stay, and even be allowed to leave. However, years upon years of no hope, of doing the same thing over and over with no chance to break scene until a certain creator popped in, looked around, and found the place wanting, hope was impossible for them to find. Impossible to put any stock into. And they greatly feared opening their eyes, and seeing the cold, empty studio.

====-====-====-====

“Okay, here’s the plan.” Henry crouched, holding the map to the ground, face firm, eyes scanning the rest of the group. “We ride every ride. We search every booth. We find the levers, we figure out the best path to each one, leading all the way to the haunted house. We get in, we skin Boris or whatever shows up, we kick ass, we take names.”

“Henry that booth has lemonade. Can I get some lemonade?”

“Yes you can Bendy. Just no pink lemonade. Once you know how that stuff came to be, you don’t ever want to drink it again.”

Alice, who was indeed drinking pink lemonade, looked down, looked back up, and squinted at Henry, straw held loosely in her mouth the whole time. Bendy scampered off, eagerly rising up on the tips of his toes to see over the counter and get something he’d never tried. Excitedly taking the cup, he turned on his heel, tipping the drink to his mouth. He took a hearty sip, and his mouth was immediately sucked up into his face, not expecting the sour punch it got.

Tapping his way back to Henry, through watery eyes, he held up the drink to Henry, offering it up. Henry thanked him, patting him on the head as he took a swig.

“I remember reading a book where people were thinking they were eating a ritzy meal only to discover it was all maggots and slime.” Alice spoke up. Henry choked, coughing out ‘son of a—’ as he spat the lemonade out. Cuphead quietly tugged on Alice’s dress hem, looking up at her.

“You can’t hang around my brother once he’s back to normal. He’s bad enough as is, and I don’t need you encouraging him.”

Alice simply grinned.

====-=====-====-====

They returned to the Spinneret, to no one’s surprise. Not only because Henry loved it, but because they hadn’t been looking for levers when first riding it. Sure enough, one was dead center on the roof, impossible to reach with the forces pressing them into the walls as the ride spun. They wouldn’t have pulled it anyway, mostly because Henry loved it. And few wanted to ruin the scenery before they could fully enjoy it.

Beautiful though it was, there was something unnerving about seeing moonlight devour souls as they entered the area. Those that reemerged had hollow smiles, false laughs, strained shows of being unaffected by whatever happened to them.

No levers were found on Devil’s Swing, but it was ridden none the less. Henry didn’t fail to notice the more they simply did as the other guests, the other guests relaxed. It was definitely sending warnings into his mind, blaring red alerts sitting on the back burner, wailing but not frantic. It didn’t make him any less jittery when he started matching faces to names, and names to time periods, to years. He was absolutely sure he’d passed his Sergeant, as well as a number of his dear friends during the war. Ones he’d seen blown apart, or shot through the skull. He found himself focusing heavily on those around him, those who were the present. He knew the place was messing with him, but the idea that people he’d hoped were at peace being in an amusement park that was a simple flipped switch away from hellish misery pained him.

The next ride was Epitome. Based on the map, it was a far more elaborate roller coaster than Machination. Before boarding, Cuphead had seemed a bit hesitant, fingers dancing on the porcelain where his head floated above. Sammy and Alice, then Henry and Bendy, hopped on, with Henry stating they’d report back, and the other two could ride the other coaster, or even Howler Falls. Norman and Cuphead instead chose to return to the entrance, wondering if the place would be so sneaky as to put a lever on the giant reels. Norman marked the map with rides they knew had levers.

“Yeah you probably shouldn’t go on it.” Henry spoke up once the two had wandered back over to Epitome.

“Bendy almost lost his head, Henry had to hold it. I just about lost my halo, and its best we don’t tell you what Sammy did when his mask slipped off. It was a good thing I had that spare.

”

“No, what we should focus on is how what he did is gone now, not a spot of damage to the coaster or the track.”

“Can we just say there wasn’t a lever, and now it’s between Howler Falls and Machination for our next ride.” It had been decided early on to not split up. Not only because many in the group thought that to be blatantly stupid, but also out of fear that the Theater would take advantage of that. It was much harder to mentally scar someone when others stood nearby, ready to crack jokes, ease the tension. Such as when Susie was seen again.

“Yeah old you is great, but if we’re going by body count, she doesn’t hold a candle to current you!” Sammy said like that was the best thing he’d ever spat out of his globby maw.

“Just think, if old you is wandering around, that might mean toon Alice is about, and if shes’ about, you can knee her in the face and make her look like you! Then it’s jus a matter of getting a photo and telling Allison she can stick it.” Norman drawled, light steady on her pallid face.

“What do you want to bet she’s never slugged it out in an ink bath before.” Henry tossed in. It was enough, especially the idea that toon Alice was out there, waiting for a good ol’ knee to the face. As they strode on ahead, she may—or may not—have whispered to a tree about _maybe_ giving her a chance to _talk_ her problems with Angel out. Which—contemplating how entertaining that would be—the theater may—or may not—have nudged the ink about that. To which the ink looked into itself, into the vast void of souls, looked back, and gave a metaphorical shrug while beginning to scrounge around.

Machinations was a far softer ride. While it wasn’t tame, it was easy enough that Cuphead and Norman were able to ride it. Which they did no less than five times. During the fifth run, Cuphead spotted the lever, sitting on supports of the track above a dip, meaning they’d have to be on the track, on a coaster, and standing or with something to snag it, to flip it. It was Howler Falls that got the most deliberation as all staunchly ignored the Scrambler ride behind them, smoothly working, spinning, doing nothing to crush people or throw what amounted to a robotic tantrum.

To Henry, Norman, and Alice, it meant there was a switch on him. To Norman and Bendy, it meant the bastard was waiting. Cuphead didn’t much care, too busy watching men carefully help their female partners into Howler Falls. Granted, it wasn’t just men and women side by side, but he couldn’t figure out why many of the adult pairs spent the most time giggling and fanning themselves and scooting closer as the boat floated into the depths of the dark ride. When he asked, Sammy and Norman just sort of shrugged. Henry, who had more experience in those things, and not severely out of touch with the world outside as the rest were, filled him in.

“That thing is one of two types. Either that’s a love boat, or it’s a horror ride. Both types give them the excuse to get close and cuddly, or conk out until the hill and the mild splash without anyone seeing you looking like a loser, snoring up a storm on a public bench. Or prank one another in the dark. Course that one is how we almost lost Uncle Smith…” He drifted off, looking at the various people in their group.

“And in the spirit of paternal love, and the spirit of not wanting to get squished by one of you giants” he gestured to Sammy and Norman, both who towered over him. “I’m taking Bendy with me. That and I don’t trust one of you to try scaring him, and if I gotta get into that nasty water to get to whatever props he inevitably clings to and save him, its going to be because I was the one that scared him.” He scooped Bendy up before any of the others could speak. Cuphead, looking up and up at Norman and Sammy, promptly asked Alice if she would ride with him.

She took his hand and led him over in response. The way they all saw it, if the ink that made them up was going to melt off when water hit them, the theater had a solid chance to bring them back as long as their presence would guarantee hilarity for the skeletal crowd watching. Sammy and Norman took that opportunity to agree to one thing. Critiquing the romantic skills of whoever they happened to float in front of or behind.

====-====-====-====

Alice rested her head on her hand, staring ahead with a sort of glazed look. ‘If I focus, I’ll end up laughing, and then I won’t be able to hear them’, wrote itself clearly in her tightly pressed together lips and watering eyes.

“Oh come on man, she’s barely into it!”

“I’ve seen more passion from a rat finding a whole pizza slice on the street!”

“Hey have you considered not slobbering everywhere? Who the fuck told you the cheek was a sexy place to lick?”

“I’m rewriting our scale, this performance requires the ability to give negative numbers.”

From behind her, was Norman and Sammy, critiquing everything and anything they could, completely ignoring the quaint little story being told in the scenery.

“See Bendy, it’s not just you that gains weight when in cutout form! Or eve animatronic form!”

“I think that’s actually Boris.”

“Oh shit…Bendy, I’m sorry, but I don’t like the idea of you hanging out with voyeurs. Joey already got my other son into bondage and leather!”

From in front of her was Henry and Bendy, commentating on the scenery and ignoring the boats around them. Cuphead had long since decided he’d simply ride again, because there was no way he or Alice were looking for the lever. The little splash down moment was fun, made even better by doing nothing to the inky ones.

Finally it was time to look at Bertrum, even named that on the map. So they did. From a distance. At one point, Cuphead thought he saw a flash of blue and dusky grey, but there were so many people, and many were wearing lavish colors to include the ones he was looking for. No one made a move to go for the lever, attached to the things body, right below where the face usually appeared after the ornately decorated doors opened. They simply nodded, and moved on. Cuphead wiggled his nose a bit, squinting up at the chairs.

“Once you’ve ridden on a dragon, that sorta thing just pales in comparison.” He remarked plainly, opting out of riding the swings. Instead he walked along the concession booth, noting how another train station sat directly across from Bertrum. He waited for the train, wondering what it would look like, only for it to come blazing up, fire wreathed wheels sending up pearlescent clouds of unholy flame and smoke. Its whistle sounded like Hott’s when the deity was actively trying to scare people, loud, levelled with thousands of screams, and yet somehow, rumbling through everything nearby. People who boarded didn’t seem to notice or care, readily stepping onto the ride/transportation. It burst away once all were aboard, wailing out a whistle.

Trotting down the line of concession stands without going too far, he was the first to lay his eyes on the haunted house. It looked decrepit, with cobwebs dripping from the dingy railings. Paint and moss slid down the walls, silhouettes peered out from the windows as the doors swung open and closed with an unnerving creak each time someone entered or exited. Beside it, a sharp juxtaposition, sat ‘Devil’s Disco’ Funhouse. With bright colors and Sillyvision studio cartoons painted in carnival outfits decorating the entrance, it was a far cry from the darker haunted house. Beside him was the carousel, peppy music drifting from it over to him. Not wanting to be too far away from the group, he turned on his heel and returned to their sides.

They met him, Alice running her fingers through her hair irritably, Bendy sipping on what appeared to be soda, Norman and Sammy arguing about whether or not the concession stand worker who’d given them their things was Wally or not. Henry didn’t take long to spot the switch on Heaven’s Ring, dead center on the main body, glittering gold to match the elaborate scenery around it. The Ferris wheel and carousel almost appeared to match rotations, moving like well oiled gears in tandem with one another. And it was about that time, remembering how Mugman wasn’t all that comfortable in high places after almost being sipped like afternoon tea by a corrupted Grim, that Cuphead began to wonder if he should have been looking out for his brother more while they searched. And whether his brother knew the dangers now lurking in the night drenched area.

====-====-====-====

Jendy eased the toe of his shoe into the moonlight, tilting his head as the sound of machinery kicked in. Mugman watched the light shift, unseen figures lunging forward in grotesque ways to reach the one taunting them. Not that he was paying that much attention, puppeteer too busy talking to its Feather. It wasn’t that the Domain was being careless, it was simply seeing what would happen. Curious enough, and sure enough that it would handle anything that got too close, it waited. The ink, well aware its preferred child was being tested, couldn’t really do much to force its child to stop tempting fate. The most it could do was reach out to the souls lurking in the light, ripping them from the scene, back into its void.

 But there were _so many_ , that it couldn’t pay attention to all of them. As Jendy leaned into the silver light, a hand drifted into the light, turning visible within the light of the sun. It reached thin, bony fingers towards the one standing beside their tormentor. The souls knew the blue one was dear to the demon, that the demon’s happiness was tying itself tightly to the one well within their grasp both outside and inside the ink. And it wasn’t hard for them to take advantage of the distraction between the guardian protecting the other, and the ink no longer acting as a barrier as it had started doing.

In the ink, sliding closer and closer to a balled-up toon, a hand reached for the same ankle it eagerly stretched long fingers towards in the sunlight. At least it was, until a golden eye opened on the haunch of the hound like creature in the depths of the ink, fury radiating off of it. Jendy shifted, bringing his foot down on the hand, not sparing a glance as Mugman jolted back, surprise decorating his wide-eyed features.

_“That’s one hell of a bold strategy.”_ Jendy’s voice rumbled, low and dangerous, nasty grin on full display. The ink too, snapped to attention, dragging the soul back, seeing all the signs of a golden fire igniting fury brewing in golden eyes and hitched sobs. It liked the current setup—albeit not the deal binding its actions the moment its preferred child faced a deity—and wasn’t willing to lose a tool to its preferred child’s happiness. The shadows hummed, and Mugman watched Jendy stroll into the night, the carnival getup he still wore glinting in the soft glow from above.

_“It didn’t pay off.”_ Jendy finished, barely remembering to wave for Mugman to stay where he was as souls began to converge on the intruder, rage outweighing their fear. Mugman placed a hand on his cheek, head tilted as souls were torn apart, reduced to shreds of themselves, easy pickings for the ink to reclaim.

“Oh my, such a temper.” The blue deity mused, lips twitching, not quite attempting to hide the coy lilt blooming on dusky features.

====-====-====-====

“Oh yay! It’s a fun house!” Bendy cheered.

They entered, checkerboard pattered doors swinging shut behind them. Lights glinted off of what appeared to be countless mirrors. But what was also reflected in them, was the lever, thousands of copies of it, scattered within every single mirror surface.

“Oh _shit,_ it’s a fun house.” Sammy slumped.

Norman just heaved a staticky sigh, and pressed on. Within one turn his light thunked on a mirror, which, honestly, was pretty comical all things considered. Especially when all the projectionist did was sigh, squint at his own reflection, turn, and run into another mirror.

Yet another static filled sigh spilled out of the speaker. Henry lost it.

“I say we actually get this one, because all of this while the rest of the park is potentially all neon and night time? That doesn’t sound too appealing.” Alice murmured, following Sammy as he squeaked along mirror surfaces, being caught by Norman when he found a gap and toppled back. Henry, red in the face, nodded, far too amused to be as annoyed as the singer was. Bendy and Cuphead shared his amusement, just as entertained as the rest, trailing behind the taller ones.

“This place is genius, these things aren’t even supposed to reflect anything like that!” Henry got out between side shaking bursts of laughter. They got out of the hall of mirrors, and immediately found the uneven floors by means of an exasperated Alice wanting to hurry things up, and face planting. When her nails dug into steel, leaving visible gouges, the rest of them immediately hauled her up, then kept their distance. Directly after the uneven floors, surrounded by wallpapered walls, a colorful floor awaited them. Norman leading the way now, he got a few steps forward, only for the floor to start moving, pushing him back. His back smushed into Sammy’s chest, which happened to be shaking with laughter, and sighed.

If one ever wanted to know what a group of ink creatures, toons, and humans looked like when sprinting on a floor that only seemed to go faster out of malicious assholery looked, they only had to be watching the group handle the moving floor. It was hilarious, it was nerve wracking, it was _priceless when Norman tripped and took everyone else out with him._

By the time they got to the other side, Bendy was wheezing, Henry was sucking in great gasps of air, Alice was leaning on a wall that was painted in a far happier cacophony of colors than her mood could be painted as. Sammy and Norman were starfished onto the floor, in awe of the fact that their bodies actually felt exhausted.

Just to spite them, the floors audible gears went quiet, and the floor stopped moving.

====-====-====-====

“Oh _fuck you._ ” Alice hissed, staring up at the couch stuck fast to the ceiling above her. Bendy stood under the glasses full of water on the table, trying to figure out how that was done. He got a face full of water for his efforts, and for trusting that the place wouldn’t do that. The now empty glasses remained above, taunting him. In the room full of rooms of a house, looking like the house’s rooms had been broken apart and rearranged to make the least amount of sense, the door they thought to be the exit only showed off a toy boxing glove, zipping out to punch Bendy directly in the face.

Opening every door, in case one hid the lever, they were merely gifted with Sammy getting punched in the crotch, Henry getting covered in feathers, Alice having green tinted slime like water dumped on her, Cuphead being blasted by paint, and Norman getting a plunger to the face.

Again, if one considered the times in the true studio.

====-====-====-====

Exit door found on the floor, they dropped down right into a dark room full of psychedelic spinning walls and floors, tubes striped with bright yellow and pink paint disorienting all of them.

“This place wasn’t this big on the outside!” Alice snapped, then regret it as she dry heaved in the next moment.

“Wheee!” Henry squeezed out.

====-====-====-====

The fun mirrors, ones that actually reflected them, got genuine laughs, with the group standing in front of the one that made everyone short and laughing for a good minute. Alice stood in front of the one that extended her legs down and struck a pose.

Sammy went to see the last one, and instead stared at his true face. The one under the ink. Laughter abruptly stopping, the musician slowly lifted a hand, bitterness crawling up his throat as what looked like a fleshy hand met an inky cheek in real life. Norman joined him, wide eyes sucking in the sight of eyes in the first place. Alice sighed, forlorn, choosing to look at her human features without shattering the illusion by touching smooth skin she knew wasn’t on that side of her face. Then Bendy stepped in front of it and the _thing_ reflected back sent everyone else screaming in horror.

_True horror._

Bendy shot back and away, the outline of a cartoon heart beating visibly and rapidly on his heaving chest. The mirror let out barbarous laughter, and the group sprint out and away into the next room.

====-====-====-====

Jendy perked up, taking a deep breath of joy, ink relaying all the glorious sounds from the funhouse. He didn’t know how great it would be to hear Henry genuinely afraid, but it was. It was only made better by the rest being just as terrified. In the darkness of Howler Falls, none but one saw a grin just as barbarous as laughter that chased the others into a circular room full of doors.

Mugman let out a soft hum beside him, letting the demon pull him closer. Eyes catching trees shivering with unrestrained glee as the theater celebrated yet another triumph.

====-====-====-====

Opening one door revealed the switch, which was flipped without any hesitation. Considering the location, it really should have been hesitated on. The floor rumbled, then began to rotate. Another door was opened, and another switch was flipped. The floor not only sped up, but a butcher gang member descended. The already jumpy group descended on it with extreme prejudice. When the next switch was flipped, when the pristine butcher gang member dropped, it was greeted by the head of the previous member being launched at it. It turned out to be the sixth switch that was the right one.

Only that meant the shine of the moon slipped onto the attraction.

Barbarous laughter continued, and a bang on the door so intense the door cracked sent everyone sprinting for the door leading to the exit. As claws began shredding their only barrier between _the thing_ and freedom, they escaped, just about falling down the stairs leading back to the ground outside.

====-====-====-====

“ _No more mirrors.”_ Alice hissed at Bendy, nails digging into his face as she forced him to look her dead in the eye and nod. The latter of which he did with gusto. Now sure of the location of all the switches, they raced back to the ride furthest from the attraction thus far outdoing everything in regards to horror.

Henry wound up finding his way into the operator booth, blocking the operator as Sammy slammed his fists down onto the panel. Electricity did little to one with no central nervous system, and the ride let out a grinding wail as if hurt by the assault. Norman, who’d been waiting on the ride, gave one great leap, hitting the switch and diving to the entrance in the same motion. Ready for the enraged ghosts and souls crying out for revenge.

Night chased them as they ran towards Machination. It stopped upon hitting Howler Falls, rides inside lighting up beautifully, guests outside scowling visibly. Many in the crowd tried to block Machinations’ entrance to the group, uncaring of the harsh noise rising from Norman’s speaker or Sammy’s increasingly brutal threats. The ride operator’s booth was barricaded by the time they reached it, and proved impossible to get into, metal doors refusing to open. They were forced to board the coaster, cars swiftly carrying them away, running on autopilot, barely pausing enough to let angry souls desperate to stop the group now on.

Cuphead was the one to stand. “Beppi taught me how you do this, it’s great until it almost gets you banned from the park and your brother is the only reason you’re still allowed at said park…” He drifted off as the area with the lever got closer. With each dip, Cuphead shifted, each turn had him expertly balancing to account for the motions of the car. The souls—still in their daily finery and normal appearances— had to be kept at bay by Norman and Henry.

Aided by Sammy’s shoulders, Cuphead leapt up high, able to reach the boards around the lever. He glanced at the car zooming off without him, other guests beginning to cry out for him to stay away. He hit the switch, as the next car slid under, pulling the gatling gun out as soon as he landed between two men who immediately tried to shove him under the wheels. The cars began to pick up speed, the souls, hidden by moonlight, got some sweet illumination courtesy of the gatling gun, and the second Cuphead was at the loading bay, he was leaping off to join the others.

They leapt over the side of the loading bay railing, sprinting for Howler Falls. Riding twice showed them where that switch was, directly next to the surprisingly lifelike Boris. The one that actually almost bit a chunk out of Henry until he was downed by gunfire and a near rabid ink demon. The ride went from a watery one to an inky one, and Sammy wound up bodily throwing himself to cover Cuphead as best he could as they went down a far steeper hill. Alice hauled a tommy gun out, taking advantage of the ink and lighting up everything she thought she saw move, giving Henry and Bendy an escape route they took, boarding a boat that had riders who now sported mauled faces and ill tempers.

Running out of the ride, evading the angry efforts of those around them, they hastily debated the next goal. They wound up running past Reel Wind towards Bertrum.

“Leave it to the flat tires to ruin everythin’.”

Skidding to a stop, necks and heads snapped to put Jendy in their sights. Cuphead perked up at the sight of Mugman, only to slump a bit, not used to seeing his brother actively hide behind someone else, to get away from him specifically. Jendy bared his teeth far more than what was deemed friendly after that response, as if daring Cuphead to try coming closer.

“Here I am, tryin’ t’ have a good time with my Doll, and yer ruining it! I’ve already had to…correct a coupl’a handsy spirits thinkin’ they could get in on some revenge! Yer just makin’ it worse!” He sharply gestured to the right horn side of the park.

“I prefer to call it redecorating.” Henry responded readily. Jendy snorted.

“Hate what yer doin’, I demand to speak to yer manager. I didn’t order angry spirits!”

“Aw well shucks, let me get him for you!” Henry, who’d been circling over to Betrum, keeping a healthy distance between him and the two also standing by the scrambler. Once he leapt over the gate though, the doors hiding the familiar face burst open, Bertrum’s once steady motions ground to a halt.

The machine man gurgled angrily, guests in the seats being thrown out as the arms snapped up. Instead of slamming down however, they simply started to spin.

“Don’t be mad at me! You know well and good what happens when you prank me like that!” Cuphead argued. Mugman crossed his arms and turned away, keeping Jendy between them, chin tilted up with stubbornness. Cuphead threw his arms in the air in exasperation. Henry was forced to vacate the immediate area unless he wanted to test his immortality in a false studio.

Surprisingly enough, he really didn’t.

Alice screamed as she was lifted up by an animatronic, one that got its head ripped off immediately after by Norman. If that was because of a previous couple of times when his own head had been torn off by the one looking at his gloves in a bored fashion, no one would be surprised.

“See, I ain’t the only one that don’t want you ruinin’ a perfectly good park! At the very least I’d like to walk wit’ Doll in peace for ten seconds without you jingle-brained bozos ruining it!”

“You don’t get to complain about the nicknames the others give you anymore.” Cuphead drolled to his sibling while pulling the gatling gun back out. The golden eyes of his brother were rolled, the put off expression turned to one of displeasure.

“I think this one is far less offensive than the one Hilda gave me.”

Cuphead hummed, settling the gun in the proper firing position, barrels aimed at Jendy. Golden eyes turned glacial. Jendy’s smile widened. Henry cursed once the shotgun proved surprisingly useless in getting past the arms that spun and would rise to defend Bertrum’s face. Norman started to go help, only for someone wearing the Bendy suit to almost tear the wires out from the back of his head. Sammy snapped the things wrist like a twig, mask a ferocious sneer. Jendy sighed, dipping into the ink to reappear beside him, revenge for before on his mind.

Let it be said that if Cuphead was king of poor planning, Jendy was a runner-up.

Alice drove a heel into his face, Norman drove a fist into his chest, and Sammy lifted the disoriented soul in the suit above his head.

“ _Round two you salty bitch.”_ He shouted. Instead of lobbing the body above his head at the winded demon, his knees were kicked out and he dropped it. Mugman nimbly evaded it and the hands reaching for him courtesy of Norman. He slipped around Alice, knocking the gun up and to the side in time for the burst of fire she let off to hit Bertrum instead. Bertrum was far too slow to deflect the rapid-fire shots, and they dented the metal doors protecting him. Alice would have scowled, only, Cuphead was already there, chasing after Mugman, gatling gun hidden away once more. Instead she saw the damage she dealt out, and raced forward to help Henry. If they couldn’t reach him with their hands, they’d reach him with their bullets. Unsure of whether gunfire would break the lever though, she kept the muzzle aimed higher.

Bendy tried to go for Jendy’s face, but Jendy, who’d recovered, snatched him up and threw him, face burning with rage. Mugman didn’t do as before. Rather than simply playing keep away with himself, he waited for Cuphead to lunge forward, and drove his knee into Cuphead’s chest, kicking his brother back into Norman in the next motion. Sammy caught Bendy, dropping him so his hands were free to deflect the animatronics’ swing as more and more creatures began to stagger in from the night, no longer hindered by the day.

“We need more firepower over here!” Alice shouted, her tommy gun not doing enough damage fast enough. Cuphead glanced between her and Mugman. His brother arched a brow, and gave a wickedly sharp grin. Norman caught Mugman’s attack, even if it wound up with the projectionist getting kicked right in the speaker by a none too pleased blue deity. Sammy cursed, using the animatronics’ arm to bash Jendy with vicious efficiency. Mugman, dropped by a wheezing Norman, swept up and around, one hand reaching for his straw, the other stabilizing him as he slid low to avoid Bendy’s hands. Coming up, the straw swung out, growing as long as a bat, smashing into the arm and breaking it to pieces.

“Goodness!” He spoke lightly, “It appears that you’ve been disarmed!”

“Nah Doll, he still got two perfectly tear-able ones!” Jendy growled, barbarous and vengeful.

“You best get to fixing that then.” Mugman sing-songed back, using the straw to deflect Norman’s heavy swing.

Jendy gave out a deep, ground shaking cackle, dipping into the ink and going for the two taller ink beings while gunfire from a gatling gun and a tommy gun peppered the world between the sounds of the park running around them, souls growling, and far more intense music playing.

Bendy, caught in a golden gaze, locked up. Suddenly unable to actually try to incapacitate the other now that he was actually the center of Mugman’s focus, he weakly stuttered.

“Hey there…kitten? Has—” He cleared his squeaky throat “Has anyone ever told you how pretty your face is?” Mugman’s brows furrowed, clearly reacting to how much cracking Bendy’s voice was doing. “Y’know what else is pretty? Not turning me into a smear on the floor! O-or the wall!” Mugman put his straw back in place, head tilting slowly to one side, confusion clear.

“I—”

“And might I say the ability t’ see you smile is such a treat! I would _love_ if ya didn’t gouge my eyes out so I could continue lookin!” At the end, the nervous tugging on the bowtie proved detrimental to his health once more, and he choked. Mugman reared back, glancing at the ones focused on Bertrum, visibly debating just going over where it wasn’t so weird. But Bendy didn’t want that. He needed to keep the other distracted, keep him away from helping Jendy or Bertrum.

So he slid closer in time for the other to look back at him. The parts that were more cutout—more Bendipe—rising to the surface. Something that wasn’t hard considering how many souls were laughing or dying of secondhand embarrassment instead of acting as barriers. Mugman stepped back, and Bendy matched it with a step forward. Mugman shifted, and a gloved hand caught his waist, another rising and snatching his hand up. Before the deity could truly retaliate, Bendy spun, taking the other with him.

The motion allowed both to avoid an animatronic. Mugman’s eyes glint, lids lowering. His hand shifted to hold Bendy’s, far from the first time.

“Fine, I’ll play.” He rested his other hand on Bendy’s shoulder, pulling closer. “Keep up.” He teased, and Bendy? Bendy _grinned._

Dips, quicksteps, low sweeps. The music carried them as the flew across the various battles, Bendy matching the other with enthusiasm to spare. Animatronics, suit wearing souls, searchers, all were dodged and evaded with slick grace. Jendy gave off an enraged screech at some point, but Sammy and Norman were well oiled machines. Ones that readily and easily kept him down and unable to interfere with Bendy or the others steadily eating away at Bertrum. Bendy spun Mugman out, hands holding tight, pulling him back into a full spin, catching him by the hip and twisting as a searcher swung. Moving with the same motion of dipping his dance partner low, he kicked out, knocking the head off the searcher.

It was exhilarating to do the thing he was best at, the thing he was nicknamed for. Especially with someone who matched his movements with grace and pep. Swinging and leaping and twirling made for attacks used to deflect searchers from the main battle. The music kept a fast pace, beat pulsing through the ground, making up the backbone of their motions. Any time Mugman’s hands would tighten, or his body would shift, clearly readying to end the game, Bendy would respond with a flashy move, and to avoid eating dirt or falling, Mugman would follow with it.

Bertrum wailed as gunfire finally found him, the gatling gun eating through the metal faster and faster the more it weakened. The arms snapped out over the gate, forcing Alice to throw herself back and Henry to duck low. Cuphead just changed his target to the arm supporting the cart. The cart snapped off, was dodged, and fire resumed. Only that wasn’t the only one that had to be ripped off, and so, Cuphead and Alice swapped targets, aiming for the arms first, then the head. Henry watched, waiting for the right moment to dive in and get to the lever.

Blues, swing, Lindy hops, quicksteps, foxtrots, and more, all meshed together to keep Mugman effectively out of the battle, Bendy too focused on dancing to notice how he didn’t feel winded, not as he had in the Devils Disco on the moving floor. He was also getting great at catching the glint that usually told him Mugman was going to try and either gain the lead and therefore the power to control the pace and direction of the dance, or attack rather than sway. Bendy also noticed that, despite the fast pace, the only sign of possible fatigue on the other was a bright blue flush high on his cheeks, not as visible on the dusky grey, but there all the same.

Sammy snatched Jendy up by the coat, using the demon as a cudgel on the soul in a suit before the angry squirming was too much and the jacket tore. Norman belted out his screech, scattering several searchers either into the path of the dancers or the shotgun. He and Sammy moved in tandem, easily shifting around Jendy as he changed forms, taller now, in his perfected studio form. Eyes hidden by ink caught sight of Bertrum slowing down, mechanics giving off a dying groan. They caught Bendy get tripped by a searcher he simply wasn’t focused on, allowing Mugman to spin him into an animatronics leg, leaping over the searcher immediately after.

Cuphead caught sight of Mugman, followed his brother’s focus to Henry, and tossed his gun into the shadows, whistling to catch his brothers’ attention. He held a coin in the air, letting it catch the light. Mugman frowned, fury sharply spiking off his form. Sure, a certain incident having to do with testing King Dice and Chance on how willing they were to toy with a game of coin flips and increasingly dumb ideas tossed out based on the outcome had been shattering in several ways, but it was worth it for those same ways. He shifted it, Mugman immediately started his way, stride purposeful and angry. Tossing it in the air, hearing his shadow mutter something to someone else, he caught it and avoided the infuriated brother going for his head.

“Oh hey! Just the one I was hoping for!” He exclaimed, voice chipper. The next time Mugman tried to take his head—an old motion Cuphead knew like the back of his hand—he was grabbed by the wrist and dragged back rapidly. The train sounded behind them.

See, Cuphead had always been stronger, and had only grown stronger still after his death. Many speculated it was due to his Domain and his role in their symbiotic relationship. It had been easy before to heft his brother up off the ground, made even easier still by his increased strength. Cuphead also had _fantastic_ aim, hence the many victories at the booths. Mugman caught his gaze, the train whistled, and his eyes widened.

“ _You wouldn’t dare.”_ He hissed.

“I wouldn’t!” Cuphead’s grin widened, his shadow let off the noise a dying reptile makes. “I’d bet on it!” And without any ounce of hesitation, closer to the platform, he threw his lighter sibling with all his might at the open train cars. Without walls, with only a canopy that held up by thin bars, the seats on the train were easy targets. Mugman cried out, landing on the seats, body cracking but not breaking, thanks to the padding. Disoriented, he couldn’t get back up before the train started to move. Jendy, having heard Mugman, saw red.

Shrieking wrathfully, he body checked Sammy and Norman, knocking them away. The train shot off, heedless of the rage-fueled demon now hounding it. Henry hit the switch, the ride lit up, but, broken as it was, it was far from as gorgeous as the other rides. Night fell on them, chasing them to Heaven’s ring. The horses turned quite bite happy, but nothing the group didn’t handle with extreme efficiency. Laughter from the funhouse, now directly behind the front door, carried them faster into the Haunted house. They didn’t question why the car had gone from a two-seater to a six-seater, simply hopping in. The lone ride not bathed in night gave off a cheesy evil laugh, the spirits weeping around them, no longer angry buy mournful, didn’t even look at them as they were carted off into the ride.

At first, it was exactly like the one in the studio.

Then moonlight shown through a window, and the ride darkened, car rattling, ride creaking. 

Taken from a beautiful paradise free from ink, souls heeded the grand request of the theater and ink, and made to strike _fear_ into the ones who’d ruined everything for them. They struck out, narrowly missing the group. Destroyed faces and bodies dripped black ichor with every attack, every snarl and groan. Scenes depicting people being fed to a machine, of heads being torn off or crushed to make room for a projector played out. Scenes showing weakly reaching souls drenched in blood being dragged away from freedom, from a sanctuary opened by warped music, into the ink, joined them. War scenes, familiar ones, ones matching the moment the one who’d inspired Henry to name the cutout Bendipe being shot through the eye as they laughed at a joke perfectly, acted as the highlight.

Alice Angel, perched on a cloud, sweetly gazed down on them, pristine face bubbly and joyful. Below her, the track fell into a void rather than into a door where they’d circle where the Boris beatdown would happen. Alice sucked in her breath, crushing her stomach so she could reach a shoe. As the ride started to dip, as Alice Angel started to laugh, she was conked in the head by a shoe, and rather than screaming in horror, Alice cackled. The ride sucked them down into the void, the curtains began to close.

“ _VENGEANCE!”_ Cried the inky human. Alice Angel squealed in pain, and Alice didn’t think she’d ever heard a sweeter sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I warned y'all. I was writing this thing, and thought "Hey i wanna be sure the layout is solid." So i did the most research I've ever done for something I'll never find use for. Here's the thing. The latest ride in that park is the Rotor ride, aka the Spinneret, coming in around 1946, give or take. Every other ride was built either in the late or mid 1800's or super early 1900's. The carousel is the oldest amusement park ride, 1868. The next would be the roller coaster as far as I could find. And yes, each rides name is me either referencing a song or a character in some way. No, I'm not proud of any but Fisher's Fate and Howler Falls. And anyway i figured this 35 page chapter would be great with the map so you could all follow them.  
> This just in, red dingus throws angry blue boi into hell train, will definitely regret that later.  
> Following this story is the one about a weenie demon who actually dances really fucking well, and that's just about his only supremely good skill aside from biting, because we all know he can't flirt/compliment for shit.   
> Meanwhile the other demon is a bit of a loser too, and would absolutely disrespect the dead for funsies. Rumors have it he got it from his good dad, details at nine.


	22. Raincheck

“I want to be angry, but its hard.” Henry remarked as he rollerbladed ahead of the inkpot coming for him. Bendy was tightly held in his arms, pulling stuff out of wherever he stored things and throwing whatever he had on hand at the thing. Alice hummed, reloading her gun as she sat in Norman’s arms.

“It’s certainly lively.” She ultimately decided to go with. Sammy nodded, holding Cuphead in one arm as the other remained free to defend. The massive, endless library they were in spanned out into a deep void, but the group easily decided this library was better than the other one. Mostly because, while the inkpot was a tad odd, it wasn’t anywhere near as horrifying as the pristine butcher gang members, or Henry when someone hit Bendipe. A hail of gunfire rained down on the creature, shearing a smiley face into its actual face. The others didn’t say it, but it was rather endearing that she stuck her tongue out a bit as she focused on her drawing.

Bendy lobbed an anvil at the thing, cheering as it tripped finally. The smiley face did nothing to hide its frowny face as it fell off the ledge into the void. But they’d been tricked once, they wouldn’t be tricked again. The group continued skating, keeping a leisurely, steady pace. There was no need to rush when doing so meant the creature had to catch up, losing any real intimidation factor by huffing and puffing its way closer.

Sure enough, another one dropped down. The fourth one to do so, and it too, like the previous two, was greeted with more gunfire. Alice evidently was going for a mustache this time, and snapped at Norman to stop trying to punt the smaller creatures while she was aiming. The very same creatures Sammy had chosen to lob off the side of the path whenever possible. He mostly liked listening to their tiny, panicked squeak-screams as he pitched them like baseballs.

It brought a smile to his mask.

Henry really, was the only one actually looking ahead. And he would have spotted the two on the sidelines, but Bendy’s body was in the way. As such, when the group heard Allison call for them, none were really prepared. Sammy flailed, nearly dropping Cuphead, swinging a critter into Norman who slipped and hit Henry who cursed as he went down, throwing Bendy as if to save him from the impact. Alice shrieked, gunfire going wide, ruining the curl on the mustaches right side.

The ink pot, pride as ruined as the mustache, grinned wider. Then it was bowled over by Tom, and its legs were shot out by an _enraged_ Alice. She didn’t even move off of the pile below her before bestowing vengeance. As the world began to darken, leading Allison to cry out in fear and Tom to snarl, Bendy landed on Sammy, who wheezed on impact.

====-====-====-====

Henry woke not with a groan, but silent hate. The headache that river-danced its way through his head proceeded to grow the more he laid still. Eventually he opened his eyes, deciding the fact that no noise was coming forth as it usually did with a group as colorful as theirs was more of a worry than the pain in his head. Frankly he blamed it on the food at the park, he should have known there was something off about it. The first thing he realized upon doing so was that he was in that room Allison and Tom hid in usually. He was in the usual corner, and the others were out in the room. He wasn’t barricaded in, so upon getting to the doorway, he was able to see the full gang, including Allison and Tom.

They sat away from the rest of the group, eyeing Cuphead like he was a plague carrying pigeon. He ignored them, playing a game of cards with the others. Bendy too, got a number of looks, but those were far more hostile than the ones given to Cuphead. Bendy sat close to Norman, rather blatantly using Norman as an ink-shield, not that the projectionist minded. He actually seemed content to be a guardian for the two far smaller toons. His light brightening, his speaker crackling whenever Tom made a displeased noise. 

“Henry, you’re awake I see.”

“No, this is actually me sleep-walking, you’ll see when the unicorns start tap dancing through the room wearing green frocks.”

Allison pursed her lips, frowning deeply, barely keeping an annoyed sigh in check. Tom growled, Bendy crunched closer to Norman, Norman’s speaker burst into a fit of static, and Tom stopped growling.

Cuphead yawned.

“We tried opening that door,” The red cup started, shifting his attention to Henry. “None of us could open it. I even tried shooting it, the others tried ramming it, and Bendy tried ‘open sesame’, nothing.”

“Open sesame didn’t work?!”

“Nope.”

Henry turned to the closest wall. “Okay so here’s the thing. When someone says open sesame, its usually best for comedic effect to let that work. You might not have known this, that’s okay, not everyone knows about that gag, but—”

“Well look who decided to crawl their way out of hell to greet the waking world!” The group collectively jumped, screamed, or cursed, and shot to their feet. Ink swarmed around all of them, freezing Alice, Allison, Tom and Cuphead in place. The others refused to move when the ink came much too close to Henry’s throat for their liking. The threat was clear, the upper hand fell to Jendy. He observed them rather plainly, a cool sort of gaze that was vastly different from his usual disdainfully smarmy one.

“Don’t stand on my account, I ain’t here to start anything…yet.” He paused, curving a brow up at the dark sneer from the other who shared his face. Quite blatantly, he shifted his attention away from Bendy, marking him as unimportant, and making sure all the rest knew that’s what he thought of Bendy as well. “I actually got a question, real simple one too.” He put his hands behind his back. The ink shifted, melting to the ground around their feet, not quite vanishing, but not acting as an immediate threat either. Henry nodded, letting his stance fall loose, relaxed. The others followed suit. Cuphead’s eyes glowed gold.

“Before I ask, I gotta warn ya, this ain’t an apology fer all these here shenanigans or anything I’ve done out there.” The group nodded, confusion overtaking suspicion. “Now that that’s cleared, how come they get free passes, and I don’t?” Jendy spoke simply, his accent softened as much as a Boston accent could be. Taken aback, the group looked between each other and Jendy, all but Cuphead and Henry. Jendy held his hand up as Alice opened her mouth. Sharply glancing at Henry, her teeth clicked shut, and she crossed her arms, agitated at how close the ink still was.

“She’s killed you no less than fifteen times.” Jendy pointed to Alice, but his eyes stayed on Henry. The finger moved to Sammy. “He’s killed you twenty times flat.” The hand shifted to the projectionist, “forty.” It shifted to Allison and Tom, “sixteen.”

Finally, it landed on Bendy, “thirty-two.” He then spread his arms out wide. “The actual studio and all its’ murder-y sorts got you around seventy times. Me? Five, by myself.” He paused again, letting Henry soak the numbers in and letting the creator’s stance shift. “And before you say it, yes, that is a pathetic number and they really should have stepped their game up, me included.” Henry nodded, stance relaxing again. Bendy’s face burned a bright grey.

“How’d I kill Henry? I only got the ability to move when we got here! And we both know Henry hasn’t died in Inkwell!” Jendy closed his eyes, as if mustering the patience to deal with an annoyance. It only served to make Bendy’s teeth grind.

“Ya answered yerself moron. You were that cutout, _all the cutouts_. And guess what tripped dear ol’ creator up? Or distracted him, or blocked his view of surprises? Led him down dangerous places?” Bendy withered, losing the fierce glare in place of a bitter, wounded one.

“You know damn well I had as much a choice in where those went as you had free control of what you did.” The pristine Bendy snapped. The distorted Bendy nodded, chest puffed, quite pleased.

“Exactly! D’ you have any idea what it’s like havin’ an old geezer rattling off th’ same gripes over an’ over? I want to rip the door off the miracle station like Norman did five times and just off Henry? No can do Jendy! Gotta play by th’ _rules_. I’m the great terror of the studio, _you’ve said that **more** than enough times Alice._ Yet I gotta play like one of them bozos that look like one of Boris’s artistic efforts!”

Alice shifted back, pressing closer to Sammy.

“All while limping because _someone_ don’t know how to create anything other than off-shore bank accounts and horrible ideas!”

“And gross soup.” Henry tossed out.

“Nah that was some newbie marketing kid. An I only know that cause he was the fifth t’ go in the ink.” Jendy’s voice remained light, relaxed, and in return, made the others more tense.

“But, back t’ my question. How come they get a maulin’ or three, an I just get put on the permanent hit list?” His hand shot up before Cuphead could speak. “Not you, you got a genuine grievance, but because it ain’t yer mouth I accidentally smudged off, I ain’t apologizing t’ you. Zip it.” Cuphead’s soul liquid bubbled, steam rising with his temper. Jendy returned his focus to Henry.

“Y’ think I enjoyed dragging a stupid leg, lookin’ like a deformed ink blot test reject at the word of a guy on the edge of dementia, after you all the time?”

“I think you enjoyed it on occasion.”

“Well yes, the funnier bits, absolutely. But the maul-y bits? If there’s one thing both of us share with your creation, it’s a fear of pain.” Jendy gestured between himself and Bendy. “And a distaste for Boris… and Drew.” He paused, as if thinking about the numerous similarities. Bendy bristled, but didn’t disagree. Tom’s chest rumbled as the hound started to growl. Jendy shifted his stance, but that was the extent of his acknowledgement of the toon.

“I’m not fond of my old friend.” Henry spoke, voice matching the lightness that Jendy’s had. “Really, if I had the opportunity, I’d show him what his spleen looks like and be done with it. Or just toss him to the Stein family, Aunt Linda has to be rabid by now. And if you’d been like Bendy when we got here? I wouldn’t be out for your… ink? Ink. But then you went and messed up a perfectly good—and not owned by our old studio—isle. And according to how you’re acting, you aren’t under Joey’s orders anymore, haven’t been since getting here. Last I checked, Bendy didn’t go around dragging barges into ink rivers and maiming denizens for funsies.”

“That was only the beginning! And only because they started it!” Jendy’s voice rose sharply, accent thick with defensive anger. “I was just gonna wander around! Get a gander on! But then _that one’s squeaky, ancient geezer got feisty!_ What was I supposed t’ do? Let him zap me back t’ Hell?”

“Which Hell? Mine or—”

“ _I won’t tell you again. **Zip it.** ” _The ink roiled around Cuphead, but didn’t inch even half a centimeter closer, merely writhing where it was, as if chomping at the bit to get to him. Bendy eased closer to Cuphead, as if acting as a barrier. Cuphead _glowered_ , fists clenched tight at his side.

“An’ yeah, I coulda gone about getting’ Doll t’ side with me in a less messy way, but I’m free fer the first time since bein’ hacked out of that machine! Alice drops you in the damn elevator, drops the elevator _on_ you, and just stabs you a few times, and she’s cleared of her sins. Sammy axes you _a lot_ , and a couple facial relocation events later, all is forgiven! _Those_ morons throw you in th’ way of a bunch of angry souls and they get t’ join the group! Me? No! Y’ just keep comin’ at me like before!” Jendy’s voice rose more and more the longer he spoke. It grew louder, more impassioned and bitter with every word.

“I slapped a gross hand print on Doll’s face, an’ what’s he do? Slugs his own brother like it’s a sport t’ defend me!”

Tom decided, at the moment Jendy was most focused on Henry, when he was most embroiled in his rant, to reach for the table he knew was close. His hand brushed across cool porcelain. Confused, his head jerked to face a glacial stare. There was no need for Mugman to glare, his wide, piercing gaze was more than enough to freeze the hound.

“ _Don’t.”_ The deity’s tone was lower than the sub-zero temperature of his stare. Tom took in the hands-on-hips stance, the fact that the only reason the toon was able to look him dead in the eye was because he stood on the table, and had the worlds fastest internal debate. His hand twitched, and the shadows _darkened_. Cuphead’s own shadow rumbled with discontent, drawing the cup’s attention.

 _‘You should not have done that.’_ His Domain, for the first time in Cuphead’s memory, sounded _nervous._ Logically, Cuphead knew his Domain was talking about throwing Mugman, but the childish part of him hoped it was towards Tom when the hound continued to show signs of aggression. Upon seeing the blue deity, Jendy noticeably brightened, losing much of his impassioned ire in place of contentment.

====-====-====-====

_‘Please do not destroy my child, he—’_

_‘Has almost killed mine by once again being reckless, and is not doing what I need him to do.’_

_‘The train was dangerous?’_

_‘Packed with angry souls, yes. I am not able to reach for my fire; surely you can see how that would end.’_

_‘I do.’_

_‘I will not ask your forgiveness for this, I only ask that you understand and trust me.’_

_‘Always. But I will step in if it grows to be too much.’_

_‘Of course.’_

====-====-====-====

“Growl at my Doll again an’ I’m removin’ yer throat.” Though the threat was clear, Jendy still sounded far happier than before. The edge in his voice sounded more predatory than anything else; the result of Jendy knowing Tom and how he acted. Allison too, knew him well enough, and she grabbed Tom’s arm, hissing for him to stop, taking their precarious position and their continued existence into account. Tom shot an angry glance her way. For a moment, she hoped that her face alone would be enough to get through the hot-headed ink being’s skull, get him to listen to her.

Tom looked at her, looked at Jendy, looked at Mugman, and repeated the action a few times.

“I thought you was restin’,” Jendy spoke to Mugman, ignoring Tom yet again. “Y’ don’t gotta bother yerself with this Doll, I’m just getting a few answers is all!” Mugman shifted his hands from his hips to behind his back.

“Would you like me to go back?” His voice was light, the shadows were not.

“I don’t want ya wasting yer energy on this, why don’t you go see about adding yer own touch t’ the place?” Mugman nodded in acquiescence, stepping back away from the stock-still toon wolf. Tom, without a sound, smooth as the others had ever seen, moved. His fingers dug into the table, heaving it off the ground. Golden eyes narrowed, and the toon on top of the table shifted, going from stationary on the table to across the room with a single flicker of light. All of that happened within the span of a breath. The next second was full of Allison shouting for Tom to stop, ink audibly letting out a hissing laughter from thousands upon thousands of voices, Jendy’s smile turning to a wicked snarl full of bared fangs and malice, and the main group of four trying to be surprised that Tom didn’t listen.

The table was torn from Tom’s grip by a hand, the very one that liked to hide in the ink river outside, and the one that had antagonized Bendy and Alice earlier. Wood showered the two closest, and the hand wagged a finger in a scolding manner at Tom moments before reaching for him. Tom braced, intent to shove Allison away, when a hail of gunfire ripped out from behind them. The hand writhed under the assault, dipping back into the ink before it could be turned to a fine mist. Mugman tilted his head to avoid a splatter of ink. The air around him began to wave as if an intense heat was burning around the toon.

Cuphead dropped the gun back into his _very_ hesitant shadow, smacking a fist into his palm immediately after as his focus remained on Mugman.

“I figured it out!”

‘ _I am killing him.’_

_‘Please, I only have one, and I am very attached to him.’_

_‘He is defective.’_

“Wonderful, and I’ve had _enough._ ” If anyone thought Mugman’s tone couldn’t get colder, they were thusly proven wrong. The blue toon started for the other side of the room towards Cuphead, and where he walked, the ink parted, clearing the way for him. Cuphead shifted his stance, likely bracing for what he knew Mugman’s usual follow-up was. Instead of pouncing—usually because the faster he could reach Cuphead’s handle the faster he could win and hide Cuphead’s noggin—the other went low. Faster than Cuphead could respond, his legs were swept out from under him. Before he hit the ground, a solid blow sent him into the wall, into the shadows, and spat him out on Isle Two.

Mugman spun on his heel, unhindered by the crowd of people who—by proxy of being exposed to a mama-bear Henry— knew when it was best to just pretend to become part of the scenery. Ice frosted its way across the floor around the frigid toon. Jendy felt a bead of ink drip down his face, smile strained. His face was grabbed between two near arctic hands, gold filled his vision.

“Don’t kill _anyone_ while I am gone. Are we clear?” The hands moved his limp head up and down twice, and he picked it up from there. He was pat on the head for it, Mugman once more spun around, and was gone into the shadows.

Bendy was the first to speak after a moment of silence. “I…I think I just saw _your_ life flash before _my_ eyes.” He squeaked out.  Jendy answered with a high-pitched wheeze.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead rolled a few times, catching the ground and sliding a handful of feet. He felt the spidering cracks that he’d gained from the blows seal up as he shot to his feet in time to avoid the blue striped straw thrown like a javelin where his head used to be. It melted on impact, returning to its owner’s tight grip a second after missing. Cuphead felt dread roll down his back at the dark, murderously stormy expression on his brother’s face.

“It’s gotta be real bad if you’re out instead of Mugs, and a little creepy—” He squeaked at the end, only evading the swing by his fast reflexes kicking in.

“Why _brother,_ you don’t seem to be well!” Mugman’s voice was layered with two others. Cuphead’s own straw met Mugman’s in the next swing, and to Cuphead’s surprise, there was _far_ more strength in the blow than he _knew_ Mugman actually had.

“Why can’t you just burn it away!” Cuphead stumbled under the follow-up blow. Mugman’s face flickered, and despite the blink-and-miss speed, it was enough for Cuphead to see it. Behind dusky grey, the white stained black, but above it, above even the dusky grey sat a ghasty grin stretching _far beyond_ Mugman’s face, splitting it in two. Deep, void-like eyes with a sliver of gold in them, bright with truly horrifying amounts of unnatural hatred. The constant pulse in his soul liquid froze under the sheer weight of that look.

His shadow roiled.

“ _Don’t worry brother, I know the cure for your illness.”_ Cuphead’s boot hit the edge of a stone block, one of the ones that always sat around the well were Elder Kettle’s brother rested.

====-====-====-====

Far below, a spark illuminated stained bones, and a Domain, content to observe, gave a nod as the ink around its child was swiftly burned away.

====-====-=====-====

The straw was dropped in favor of simply lashing out and shoving. Cuphead pitched over the side. A horrified shriek caught in his nonexistent throat as _something_ draped itself behind Mugman. Before he could make a noise, or catch up to gravity, gravity snatched him, dragging him into the waters already rippling before he’d even touched them. The last things he saw as unimaginable pressure descended on him was what had to be the ink crack both of Mugman’s arms near to the point of shattering. And a cat perched on Mugman’s shoulder, a hound at his side, both with the very same ghastly grin watching him, _observing._

====-====-====-====

“Y’ know,” Jendy spoke once he was more composed, “I know he said I couldn’t kill any of ya. But…” He paused, examining the shine on his shoes. The group tensed. “He didn’t say _nothin_ about anythin’ else.” The door cracked against the wall from the force behind whatever opened it. Alice shrieked, Bendy shrieked, Allison shrieked, Henry nodded. Sammy and Norman shouted out the bone they wanted to tear out of Jendy and wear as a new hat, and all were sprinting out the door as searchers, animatronics, and the hand, chased them out.

====-====-====-====

Mugman reappeared at Jendy’s side, far more composed than before. In the empty room, Jendy’s smile wavered, nerves he didn’t technically have making him rock back on his heels.

“I uh… Y’know I’m still sorry about that whole…” He gestured to his face; pie cut eyes flicking towards the quiet toon. “Thing… A-and th—”

“Are you bored yet?” Mugman spoke lightly, softly. Jendy’s mouth audibly clicked shut, his brows rose higher. Mugman tilted his head, eyes fixed on the other. Screams from those off trying to get the barge going while fighting everything off echoed even with the door being closed.

“W-with you? Nah! Nah I cou—” The slightest glint of amusement was all it took to get Jendy to stutter into silence once more.

“Have I given you what I promised? What you wanted me to?” Jendy perked up, eagerly nodding. Mugman’s smile twitched, but remained.

“And look! Dig through this stuff all ya want Doll, y’ain’t gonna find any of them gods out there in the ink!” Jendy waved his hands to the ink around them, and Mugman nodded.

“So then, are you bored yet?” He repeated the question, and Jendy’s bright grin wobbled in confusion. “You should tell me.” His voice pitched lower, still soft as a cloud though, still sending pleasant sparks through Jendy’s frame, the souls within basking in something that wasn’t yet another scream for mercy or an insult.

“I mean… This ain’t what I intend on doin’ forever…”

“He wants to go home,” Mugman’s body shifted, leaning closer to the door behind them, making it clear who he was talking about. “He wants to get back to his living relatives, but he doesn’t want to abandon the studio. He’s tired of the game Joey crafted, are you?”

Jendy frowned, settling back off his heels, hands wringing together behind his back. “Are ya mad I sent ‘em off with a party?” Mugman’s smile tilted, amusement splashing across sweet features, but he didn’t respond with anything else. “I mean, I figured this’d be the last hurrah type shindig. Maybe off em with a bang!”

“And if they get to the end? Will you simply ask the stage to reset itself like before?”

“I mean I sorta had it in my mind t’ just…crush their skulls ‘n stuff…” Jendy tugged on his bowtie. He swept his hand up along his forehead, trying to make the motion appear like he was simply fixing what felt like an errant drip of ink instead of the nervous gesture it was. Mugman’s eyes narrowed briefly, a flicker of something else flashing across the amusement. The ink within Jendy curdled, but Jendy cared so little about that when oh so soft hands reached up to still his own it was near comical.

“You’re free. There’s no one but you ordering yourself around. Is this what you want the most?” Jendy’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his mind coiling around the ‘free’. While he’d known he was free since stepping onto Inkwell, he could still feel the echoes of demands. The strains of old commands and wild cries ordering him to act a certain way, do a certain thing.

But that was all they were.

Echoes.

Hell, the inks voice was louder now. He looked around at the walls artfully matching the true walls he wasn’t bound in anymore. The floors that spat out the same creaks in the same spots, expectant more than tired as the studio was.

“Would you have me ask the theater to play an encore until you’re tired?” Mugman’s hands moved to gesture to the walls, but were grabbed before that, the cool porcelain keeping Jendy’s mind from going too far into the depths to think. Slowly, carefully, he shook his head.

“Is this a roundabout attempt t’ get me to apologize t’ them?” He asked his Doll weakly. Mugman’s head twisted towards his shoulder, a short giggle spilling out of his mouth.

“I won’t tell you to do anything else. I’m following your lead, dear.” Mugman shifted closer, the air dropping in temperature just enough to make another shiver slide down Jendy’s spine. “ _Command me,_ tell me what you want, and I will give it to you.”

Jendy basked in the golden glow from the other, mind torn in several pieces, countless souls all whispering, ink murmuring, magic humming. He thought, even as far in the distance, yet ever clear to him, sounds of the gang chatting away, having survived the barge and the mad sprint down the river joined the other noises. There were _so many things_ he wanted to do. He’d gotten to hear the horror in the voices of the gang, but, and perhaps it was his pride speaking, that hadn’t necessarily been _him._ He supposed he could get one thing out of the way first, before he went for bigger desires.

“If I swear not t’ kill yer brother, can I get hugs whenever? A-and help with pranks?”

====-====-====-====

It was at that moment a Domain blinked very slowly, looked to where its missing half was… and promptly mourned its rather hasty implication of a necessary learning experience. Mostly because there was no one to share its affirmation that the one the ink preferred was _weird._

====-====-====-====

Mugman nodded, returning the shaky grip holding his hands with a steady one.  Jendy’s bow tie fluffed up on its own accord, the toon flushing grey with pleasure.

“Then I won’t, an that goes fer the others in the ink! They won’t either!”

The ink looked at the magic. The magic looked at the ink. The two looked out at the vast array of souls all either wheezing, groaning, or lamenting their sudden inability to find out what porcelain blood really looked like. The two looked at their preferred child, and perhaps it was the effect of having the entity in the theater pilfering around within, whistling a merry tune while scrounging for things it could use all while dropping what it had collected and knew the two knew would be useful behind it. Perhaps it was the effect of the other Domains vacillating between laughing at the two and verbally assaulting them. But for the briefest of seconds, they both wondered where they’d gone wrong.

Of course, what amounted to their moods were lifted upon following the next string of thought entertained and desired by their preferred child.

====-====-====-====

Porcelain couldn’t drown, but Cuphead was fairly confident that if they could, being in the well was what it would feel like. His entire body ached, his head burned, and his mind was slipping. His Domain thrashed, snarling words he knew he should be able to understand, but couldn’t.

All at once, he went from sinking to rising, and his body was spit out. He landed on the stone surrounding the well, arm cracking on impact. Wheezing, hacking out great mouthfuls of water, he eased himself onto his hands and knees, glaring at the well, wiping water from his face once all the intruding liquid was out of his soul.

“Okay, I asked for a less impulsive brother, not a fancy one.” Cuphead’s head snapped up, not expecting to hear his brother. Mugman flinched back away from his sudden motion, inching away the longer the other remained silent. The blue shorts, the black shirt, it felt like _ages_ since he’d seen the other wear that outfit. But more than that, there wasn’t a hint of a Domain lurking in the others shadow, not a single bit of godliness hanging off the other.

“And he’s weird,” Mugman muttered under his breath, then raised his voice to speak to the well. “You can take him back, I definitely can’t handle two weird brothers, thank you!”

“What?” Cuphead finally got out, shifting to rest on his heels.

“I made a wish, not my brightest idea really, but I’m _bored._ ” Mugman, a very _mortal_ Mugman, whined. “But you, or… my brother? Sort of you? Won’t let me help you get contracts! ‘Stay here Mugs, sit where it’s safe Mugs’.” Mugman curled up, dropping his chin on his knees. “Boy, wait till I tell him he thought a defective well was safe. Then again…” He paused, tilting his head a bit, looking towards the sky. “It’s not as bad as the mausoleum, at least you aren’t trying to scare me.”

“Contracts?” Cuphead weakly grabbed the single phrase that stuck out. The one that didn’t sound quite right. His mind was fried beyond recognition, hardly able to maintain a solid line of thought as wave upon wave of memories from when he and his brother were alive and not fighting ink demons with creator issues. But the memories didn’t match the life of the one before him. It wasn’t his Mugman, that was for sure. It couldn’t be, not when he saw Elder Kettle there _far_ more often than he’d been for Cuphead and his true brother. And sure, Mugman played the casino games, but every time Devil offered to play a round with him he’d gesture to his pile of earnings—ones that he didn’t intend on keeping no matter what the staff argued—and ask if Devil was afraid his casino was about to be cleaned out.

This one flat out refused out of fear for losing his soul, and sure enough lost it. Albeit not because he gambled it away, but because of Cuphead, or an alternate Cuphead. Except Cuphead too, had tried playing with Devil. Really, Cuphead was at a total loss, and his face reflected as much.

“Debtors contracts. What, did the well not tell you? You made a bet with Devil and surprise of _all surprises_ lost.”

Gunfire from above tore through the spot of silence, and Cuphead just about shot three feet into the air, narrowly avoiding falling into the well again. Mugman arched a brow, blue eyes narrowing. The fact that he was easily ignoring the dogfight in the sky didn’t really soothe Cuphead’s nerves.

“I uh… how uh, how’s that going for you?” Cuphead started, his voice squeaked, he cleared his nonexistent throat, and finished smoothly. Below him, his Domain wished it could find a wall to thunk its head on.

“How’d you think? I’m here, my impulsive brother is fighting a giant bird stuck in his birdhouse, and you’re there, asking really bad questions.”

“So it’s going great then!” Cuphead retorted. Mugman snorted, rolling his eyes.

“The creepy puppet hugs me _one time_ and it’s ‘real sorry kid but you’ll have to stay out here, if we kill your brother we’ll give ya the pieces’.” He mumbled bitterly into his knees. Then he paused, and his eyes narrowed further at Cuphead.

“Unless you’re another debtor. If you are, could you wait for Cuphead to get down here. The last time I tried to get a contract on my own he yelled at me.”

Cuphead indeed could see that. Could see this strange, not quite version of his brother get his arm broken off, and proceed to use it to smack a frog silly. It took monumental effort to not laugh out loud or crack a smile. Being Cuphead, he was almost entirely certain the only reason another version of himself was yelling was to hide the laughter at seeing Ribby look all manner of stunned, holding a bright red cheek with a clear handprint on it.

“I deal with the guy, but he says my soul ain’t worth a back scratcher, so…” He shrugged lightly. Looking around, he was back on Inkwell, on Isle Two even. Now that he thought about it, neither of the brothers had ever truly asked Elder Kettle’s brother what he could do or what his Domain really did. He looked at the water, searching for any signs of the deity trapped below.

“Wonderful, how lucky for you.” Mugman, sounding more bitter than the blackest coffee, snapped. He looked up, having realized he hadn’t heard gunfire for a while, and though he would be nervous for his sibling, he also hadn’t heard a plane hit the water, which Mugman hoped meant another contract was in their hands.

“Hey, I could try helping you know.”

“No thank you Mr. weird well guy.”

“Mugs I did it! I got…scruffy clothes and gaudy jewelry?” Cuphead shifted his attention to the newcomer, rearing back in offense.

“Says the guy in stupid shorts!” No one had to know Cuphead wore that exact outfit but him. No one but the shadow under him letting off a reptilian wheeze.

‘ _The Domain scry’s. We are in what could have been, and it is not wise to pick fights with what amounts to yourself.’_ The reptilian hiss at the end held more exasperation than Cuphead could remember hearing in a while.

“Stupid! Why I ought’a—”

“Brother please! Don’t pick fights!” Mugman interrupted, the blue teen shifted to stand, taking a step towards his red-faced sibling who’d stormed closer. Both Cupheads’ responded, bodies losing their tense lines. Mugman looked between the two, exasperation clear.

“Oh I _definitely_ can’t handle two of you.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I have _never_ bet my brothers soul to Devil!” If that was mostly because Mugman had gone blue in the face and used an automated mixer on his soul liquid while King Dice laughed at him—once again, that was only for him and that single incident to know. And being fair, it was mostly because he hadn’t been paying attention to wording or what he’d been telling Devil. Devil wouldn’t have taken them anyway, he’d said that quite plainly, but Mugman was incensed none the less.

“He’s practically asking t’ get walloped!” The other Cuphead whined. Mugman stomped his foot and sharply gestured for his brother to walk away.

“We’re on a time limit _brother._ ” Both Cuphead’s flinched at the dark tone. “We don’t have _time._ Have you been to Grim Matchsticks tower?” The rapid tapping of a _very_ agitated boot punctuated the words thick with warning.

“Grim? You mean the green dragon?” The deity Cuphead asked, perking up at the familiar name. “Get him talking and he’ll be distracted enough you can draw a mustache on him and he won’t even notice. Same with Rumor.” Mugman perked up, far less angry than previously.

“You’ve met them?”

“Yeah!”

“Or you’re lying and just want me to get roasted.” The other Cuphead glared, suddenly discontent with the fact that his brother was closer to the thing that looked like a fancy version of himself than what he deemed safe. Cuphead idly lamented the fact that both he and his alternate broke Mugman’s favorite toy and stuffed it in the exact same floor space under Elder Kettle’s rocking chair.

“We’re porcelain, dippy. Most his fire would do is scorch those stupid shorts.” Cuphead crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on his heel.

“Okay, that’s it!” The Cuphead that could have been angrily stomped forward. Now see, Cuphead had intended to shift into a battle stance, except he was still _right next to the well_. His boot slipped on the wet stone, and he pitched backwards, dropping back into the water with a surprised shriek.

The two still by the well froze. Glacial blue eyes turned on startled red.

“If we try his tips, and he was right and we just lost our chance to _not have to fight every single damn debtor… I’m killing you._ ” Mugman hissed. Cuphead’s face bloomed bright red and he offered up a sheepish laugh.

====-====-====-====

Jendy whistled from atop his perch on the central building the false Sammy normally came out of. The group, having just fought off another wave of creatures, giving off waves of exhaustion, glared. Henry leaned on his weapon, chest expanding in even, but large breaths. Bendy stood at his side, near pressed into his leg, ink stained teeth parted, baring the maw full of sharp, nightmare inducing fangs.

“Did you know the studio only stopped trying to wipe yer memory around fifty or so times ago?” Jendy spoke, voice lofty. Henry shook his head. “You’ve been here a _damn_ long time. Or not here, but in there. Ya get the point.” His heel thumped the wall rhythmically, keeping a steady pace. “Now I ain’t one t’ keep count or time. But see, I’ve seen the end at _least_ one hundred and fifty times. Been a long time, creator.”

“What’s your point!” Bendy bit back. Jendy sneered, foot pausing mid swing.

“You know _damn well what it is_.” The sharper version hissed. “Yer just sittin’ in denial.”

Alice opened her mouth, likely to make a comment pertaining to certain toons wearing what she and the others from Earth knew to be clothing from the same area as a certain river, but it was snapped shut by the ink nearest to her aggressively sliding closer. She could have kicked herself, greatly regretting not keeping her tommy gun.

Jendy gave them a minute, and when no one acted as he evidently hoped they would, he shrugged. Rolling his head, he let out an audible sigh. “Fine, don’t say it. But if I gotta face ‘the end’ again, then you get t’ face reality.”

He fell back into the ink, and another wave descended on the group. He knew the group would survive, knew they wouldn’t die, but he found himself glad to know that. It meant he could press further into his game. One of his own making, with no demented old coot screeching at him. Just a sweet Doll humming away while rearranging the avalanche of pillows, swaying to his own tune.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead _hated_ water. To clarify, he didn’t hate water in general, it wasn’t that bad a Domain, a bit flashy at times, but what his shared from its words, it wasn’t that bad. And he certainly didn’t hate drinking it or splashing around in puddles or even the water in his own Domain. But being submerged?

Cuphead _loathed it._

He flailed angrily, hoping that there was an off chance he could hit the deity that should have been in the water with him. Elder Kettle told him the runes carved into the bones kept them from dissolving away like the rest of the body had, but there was nothing talking about keeping the bones from being immune to a hearty smack.

Instead he was spit back out. Landing on his back this time, he wheezed, barely registering the sounds of startled noises and a tin can noisily dragging a roll of fabric. He didn’t stay down long, rolling onto his side, letting water spill out of his mouth _again._

“Oh my.”

“Great news Mugs, the thing has good taste!”

There was a deep sigh and a wash of soothing magic, removing impurities from his soul liquid faster than the usual method did.

“Brother, that’s not the creature we were told to look out for.”

Cuphead looked up, and paused.

“Why are you in a dress?” He asked quite plainly. The alternate version of his brother, currently in an off the shoulder golden gown, crossed gloved arms across his chest.

“Why are you dead?” The other retorted. Cuphead caught the mocking smirk on his own alternates face, realized what he’d just said, and desperately fought to keep the red from his face.

“I drank a potion.” He ultimately said.

“Rookie mistake.” The Cuphead in what the deity Cuphead secretly thought was really cool armor remarked.

“Hey! We read up on it first! Not my fault Elder Kettle didn’t tell us we weren’t mortal!” Cuphead shot back, losing the battle to keep the red from his face. Mugman took pity on him apparently, and gestured to his own gown.

“I’m in this because Inkwell likes pretty gowns, and it makes people less likely to see how breakable I am when I’m trying to settle fights peacefully.”

“I wear armor because it’s neat.” The one in knight armor puffed his chest out as best he could with the armor over it.

“He’s Sir Cuphead, Inkwell’s Knight, and I am Lady Mugs, Inkwell’s diplomat.”

Cuphead’s Domain wheezed as a grand force pressed down on it. Not aggressively, but like a large dog sniffing around, curious and eager.

“Forgive me, but I don’t think you belong here… Inkwell! Stop that! That’s rude!” Mugs stomped his heel down, making a sharp cracking noise. The pressure retreated immediately, and both Cuphead’s Domain and Cuphead gave off sighs of relief.

“I’m a god of retribution.” Cuphead answered the title share, standing up fully so he didn’t feel so off balance. He looked at the ground, wondering if that’s how Cagney felt all the time. Mugs gave him a bright smile, and Cuphead didn’t realize how much he missed seeing it. By his internal clock, it had been _days_ since the ink got over everything. But with the haze over everything, and with the barrier and all that, it was hard to be sure. All he knew was it was genuinely miserable to not have his actual sibling not covered in ink and acting frankly terrifying.

Knight Cuphead cheered, throwing his fists in the air.

“Sweet! That’s another thing I get to brag about to the other Knights!” Mugs smile twitched, sharpening just the barest. He leaned his weight to one side.

“And I get to tell them even alternate versions of you do impulsively stupid things.” Both Cuphead coughed into their hands at the same time, suddenly finding their surroundings _fascinating._ Mugs laughed, face beaming with amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I never make impulsive decisions.” Knight Cuphead leaned his weight on his brother before the other could retort. Mugs stumbled, pressing a hand to his mouth to stifle the snickers while pushing back.

“But really, if you don’t belong here… You shouldn’t be here.” The Knights red eyes focused on his, and he tensed, wondering if he was about to be shoved back in. The Lady waved his hands soothingly.

“No offense meant! But surely you’ve got your own world to return to? We were just looking for something. You should be getting back before they miss you!”

“Unless… You’re here because you messed up royally?” The Knights tone had shifted, he hadn’t missed the flash of misery on the others face.

“I didn’t.” Cuphead grumbled, glancing away. “Idiots messed up, and then it just got worse from there.” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

“Goodness… Well—” Whatever Mugs had been about to say was cut off by the ground shuddering, the Knight tensing, and something _massive_ hitting the ground behind Cuphead. The Lady was dragged behind the armored Cup, while the deity Cup was thrown off by the sheer weight of the thing cracking the stones under his feet.

“Kinda wishing well ghost is _that_?!” The Knight shouted, hand reaching for a sword, only to pause and call up a _very_ familiar spear instead. Cuphead’s eyes dilated, foul memories immediately drowning out his shouting Domain as he stumbled, trying to keep from falling over. An arm, one of many, swept out, ruining his attempts with ease, sending him into the water once more. He heard his alternate sibling cry out in worry, and that was it before the pressure took over again.

====-====-====-====

Mind games were never Jendy’s strong suit. Mostly because he’d never been able to play them. His role had been a solid ‘limp in, look a bit intimidating if possible, stomp skulls, leave’. Needless to say, he had promised to see to getting the pig guy free of ink so he could lay his head in Mugman’s lap and listen to the other tell him all sorts of things he hadn’t know about the gang. From Susie’s new hatred for Alice being the result of finally understanding she was never Alice Angel’s favorite, and never would be. To Norman’s habit of avoiding damaging projectors.

All manner of useful things he and the ink could use, things they’d never thought of before. Sure, he wasn’t all too sure how he’d use the fact that Sammy actually really did love writing songs with quills, but it was interesting none the less. It was simply a bonus that he got to rest on the other’s lap and relax while the gang caught their breath.

====-====-====-====

Porkrind stared at his ruined shop, expression dark, air around him darker still. He took in the ink, the blood—his blood based on his injuries the honey he kept under the counter healed up—and the shredded shelves. The shelves with new stock he’d been excited about. The eyepatch was removed, his apron was replaced by a far sturdier one, and lined with numerous experiments he’d been working on. Stomping out the door, he spoke.

“ _Mother fucker.”_

====-====-====-====

“ _Brother? Is that you?”_

Elder Kettle shot up, eyes wide, face slack with sheer relief. He staggered over to the sink as Bon Bon threw the remains of the stained tiles out the window. The floor was now solid, repaired via magic and dedication and a little creativity. Cagney dangled from the ceiling, displeased frown on face. The other gods all turned to the sink, confused as to why they were hearing Elder Kettle’s brother’s voice.

“How—”

“A spark cleared my sinuses up right and spiffy! And almost lost his arms… which is less spiffy.” The blurry, barely there face in the water spoke, drifting off at the end. Bon Bon almost tore her dress in her haste to zip over.

“You’ve seen Mugman? How is he? Is he okay?” She clung to the edge of the sink, desperation tinging even the air around her.

“He’s actually less than fine, but not broken! Why don’t we fill each other in? I’d love to know what I’ve missed while being covered in frankly gross ink. Speaking of, I’d also like to start a vote to change Inkwell’s name after all this is over.”

The only response to that was Cagney hissing, and then returning to pouting, acting as the world’s grumpiest chandelier.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead wheezed, mentally rewriting his list of ‘worst things ever gone through’ to include ‘being treated like a dirty sock in a washing machine by a jerk of a well that was absolutely going to get shot even if it would do nothing’. Looking around, nothing immediately wrong jumped out at him. He knew he wasn’t back home though. Not unless someone had magically fixed Inkwell back to… well what he supposed was a better state all things considered. The grass wasn’t as green, the buildings he could see were still decrepit by every standard, and the well was cracked and scraggly.

Bitter as he was, that last bit didn’t really affect him. He turned so he could face the water.

“Start talkin’ buddy. I’m getting sick of whatever this is.”

The water remained silent, even going still. So Cuphead turned to his shadow.

“Okay then, what’s going on?”

_‘A game. One you are not doing well in.’_

“Well how am I supposed to do well if I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do!” Cuphead tossed his hands in the air, agitated.

_‘It is how Scale is. You were given hints, and as you failed to see them for what they were, Scale is merely speeding things up. Your brother still sits in the ink without any hope to escape as things are. So outside assistance was brought in. Outside assistance that is getting irritated. It would be—’_

“Okay that’s new.” Cuphead jolted, head spinning to face himself, down to the attire aside from a few changes here or there. The other Cuphead scowled, displeasure mixing with confusion.

“What kinda Domain spits out doppelgangers? How’s’ that even useful?” He kicked at a pebble that bounced off of Cuphead’s knee. Cuphead stood, immediately keying into the _weight_ around his alternate.

“What kinda Domain lets _you_ be a thing.” Cuphead snapped back, though he wasn’t all too sure why he was defending Elder Kettle’s brother. “I know for a damn fact we aren’t empty headed buddy, do I look like a knock-off?”

“Well yeah, actually.” The other retorted. Both shadows rumbled, paused, and rumbled again.

“If anyone’s a knock-off, its you.” Cuphead intoned, mood darkening. “I haven’t fallen, after all.”

“What?” The other reared back, face blooming red. “I _know_ you ain’t talking corruption. We _can’t_ be corrupted you—”

“Where’s Mugman?” Cuphead, already fed up with the other, looked around. The pattern thus far led him to believe there was bound to be a Mugman nearby. Whether that was the scrying Domain messing with him, or trying to tempt him into staying in the bottom of the well, he wasn’t sure yet. What he _did_ know, was putting him next to a corrupted version of himself without a Mugman around was just asking for him to test what it would be like to punch oneself without actually hitting himself.

“Hell if I know. The casino I think?” The alternate leaned back on his heel, still tense, still aggressive, but now confused. The emotion was shared by Cuphead. Much as he tried to really delve in and get answers as he usually did, he was blocked off, or his own Domain redirected his search, never really letting him see beyond the other doing the same as him and chugging a potion. Snippets ahead, sure, like the other getting on a boat to Inkwell to come rescue Mugman, then it was all redirected to the most menial things. Frustrating as it was, his confusion far outweighed his growing nerves. His Domain _never_ shrouded his vision unless it knew he wouldn’t like what he saw. When it knew him seeing something would pitch him into ‘forget scales, I’m tossing you to the water and leaving it at that because no matter what Mugs says, you’re unforgivable’.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He asked. “Did you only just start clearing the Isles? Is he still ahead of you?” His Domain let out a pained hiss in his head, somber and mournful.

“Clearing… Oh that. No I did that a while ago. Good five years, I think. I lost track of him about three years ago.”

“How?” Cuphead didn’t mean to sound so lost, but he was. How he could ever lose track of his brother, his one stable family, _for a whole three years_ … he couldn’t wrap his mind around. By now, the alternate Cuphead was starting to lose his hostile edge for an annoyed one.

“Because I don’t visit here enough and that furry jerk scares me. He was the last guy I know that saw Mugman. Why? What are you if you—”

“What do you mean you don’t… why isn’t he with you?”

“Because he’s dead. Chalice isn’t that big a rule breaker.”

Cuphead felt his knees go weak. His Domain steadied his stance before it could be seen by the other, remaining silent. The very idea that there could be a version of himself without his sibling _hurt._

“If he’s dead, he should be here. He’s your—” The other Cuphead’s eyes flashed a dark gold, and his hand snapped up, interrupting Cuphead.

“If you’re about to say he’s my Domain’s other half, he wasn’t.”

“And he died? Who killed him? If he wasn’t your…” Cuphead tried. He _honestly tried_ to understand how Inkwell was still above sea level if Mugman was dead. Deity half or no, while searching for him, Cuphead had been running with the thought of ‘in case’. The whole time, if he ever found the remains of his brother while he was searching, even if Mugman hadn’t been his deity brother, he vowed to utterly annihilate Inkwell and those on it. Retribution would be a kiddie pool in comparison to what he swore he’d do. The alternate Cuphead sighed in exasperation.

“He died on the bridge outside Hell. Cala Maria and Brineybeard were fighting and he got hit. By the time I got there Bon Bon had already found his remains.”

“And you didn’t turn their pelts into decorations?” Cuphead shouted back, voice harried, soul liquid racing. Accusation poured from Cuphead’s tone, vicious, brutal, eclipsing the confusion. The alternate version reared back.

“I cleansed them all! Retribution was enough of a punishment! He’s not my god brother, there was nothing else I could do! Besides, my god brother would have gone after him anyway! That’s what Hilda told me. And don’t think I don’t see that you messed up same as me! You aren’t any better.”

Cuphead’s Domain gave the impression of baring is teeth. That was echoed by a similar tense edge in the other’s shadow.

“Hey, instead of judging me, how’s about you just get back where you belong? Or maybe don’t act all high and mighty just because I didn’t do what _you think I should have done._ ” The other continued, bitter and insulted.

“He’s your _brother_.” Cuphead hissed back. “He came here for you! And you just… Just throw out that he died and _don’t_ give a damn otherwise?!” It was blatant to Cuphead. This alternate could be version of himself had sounded so…objective about Mugman dying. Five years, in Cuphead’s eyes, _wasn’t_ _remotely enough_ to get over losing his family. Especially if he knew the other would still be healthy and safe if it wasn’t for his desire to help Cuphead no matter what. The other had clearly been worried in the beginning, but Cuphead wasn’t allowed to see beyond the root brothers. His Domain and the others outright barred him from doing so. He dearly hoped his wasn’t doing the same to the jerk across from him. He wanted the other to see what a _good_ brother acted like.

The other Cuphead opened his mouth, steam rising from his soul liquid. Cuphead steamrolled over him, seething far more than the other, fists shaking.

“ _He wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t been an idiot. How **dare** you just shrug that off.”_

“He isn’t my—”

“You think I care?! He’s Mugman! He was always with us! Every single day, every single night, he was there! And when we messed up—And _I know you did because I can see it—he went to find help!_ ”

“And what would you have done!”

The ground under Cuphead cracked, the air grew heavy. The feather on his back blazed like a star.

“ _There wouldn’t be an Inkwell anymore._ ”

“He’s probably happy wherever he is! And I didn’t tell him to come here, he just went off on his own! Just because yours apparently survived doesn’t mean mine did. And it sure as hell doesn’t affect you!” The alternate got closer, mouth a sharp sneer, hands at his sides. “Mugman’s dead, got that? He ain’t my fellow Domain. He ain’t anything but a part of the past I lost after I died. _Back off the judgement you hoity toity waste of porcelain or I swear I—"_

Despite his utter fury, Cuphead heard Ribby in his mind. ‘The best fighting position is arms down, face presented…What? I never said who benefits most from it! But I sure ain’t wrong!’ And next thing he knew, he was punching the other. It cracked his hand, but it also sent the other back, porcelain raining from his face, shock stunning him. The shadow surged up below the alternate. Cuphead felt his own grab his legs, forcing control and tipping him back into the well as furious red-gold eyes locked onto his.

====-====-====-====

Jendy actually liked the Theater, he really did. The place was _fantastic._ Twisting hallways so getting pieces of pipe and evading creepy ink beings that only moved when they weren’t focused on as well as animatronics that wailed when they spotted prey went beyond mild annoyance into true terror. He didn’t feel like getting up, and his noggin most definitely didn’t feel like vacating the comfy lap. So he asked to know more about the gods, about Inkwell. The other hummed, ultimately deciding to start with the lady who was apparently the theater’s child.

Honestly, he sort of regret mauling her now. If he’d known she could do the kinds of things the theater was doing, he’d have politely apologized for intruding and left. While it was still fun to him what he did, it fell flat the more he felt a need to just leave rise. Get away, escape with Doll in tow. The further he was from threats that could take his prizes from him, the better. If that geezer found out how to open up a portal back to the studio while Jendy was still on Inkwell, he greatly feared that the place would drag him back.

Learning about them was nice enough, listening to the sweet voice above him was nicer still. But the idea of getting off Inkwell, of finding a way out, was the nicest. He wondered if his Doll would know who would best be able to give him what he wanted. But before he could ask, he listened to the final pipe piece be clicked into place, heard a foreign call for him to get ready for his scene, and squirmed. Rolling off the other, he popped up to his feet, stretching needlessly, getting ready for his next phase in his plan. Mugman gave him a sweet smile before he left, waving good-bye, promising to stay in the lighthouse.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead rolled the next time he was spat out, coming to his feet as a blur of golden fabric flew by him, crashing into a tree. He was already in a dark mood, seeing his sibling, alternate or no, land on the ground hard, porcelain crackling with the impact, only tipped it off the edge. The Knight, who was in the middle of cursing, trying to find a way to draw a line in the dirt without the thing interrupting him, didn’t quite see the wall of wrath hit before the mirror entity was squealing and flailing. The god version used his momentum gained from running and jumping up to grab the thing by the neck and drag it down, a blaze of gold and red fury.

He took the chance to run and check on his brother, terrified of the soul liquid splashed across the tree and pooling below his brother. Mugs sat up, gold and green magic working double-time to heal him without going too far. They’d both learned rather quickly that the thing reflected magic after a shot from the Knight almost hit the Lady. And when Mugs had tried using his own magic to call for dead to help Cuphead, the magic had reflected back to him and sent him to the ground with magical backlash. It was the reason the thing had managed to hit him.

Not that it was standing much of a chance against the ball of dark, near apoplectic fury flat out tearing the numerous limbs off like they were paper. It did manage to throw the other off but only because the liquid pouring from its wounds made its metallic body slick, and turned back to the two by the tree. It charged them, and Knight scrambled to draw a line. The Lady’s magic crackled, intent to try anything to keep the thing away. It darted, avoiding another attack from the deity, snapping an arm out—one of the ones not torn off—smashing it into the Knight. Armor taking the impact with ease, he was still thrown off his feet. It lost the arm in doing so, the brigandine avenging its owner like the product of hell it was, leaving it with two out of fifteen.

The god rose from the shadows, intercepting the hands reaching for the downed Lady. His hands crackled, giving off a heavy wave of malice as magic dripped from them. “ _Drown in the weight of your sins you—”_ The deity broke off into a vile, burning insult in a language even Inkwell didn’t understand.

“Don’t!” The Lady shouted. But instead of reflecting like all other magic had, the magic blast let off by the deity was absorbed. Both arms shattered, exploding into thousands of pieces. As centuries of murder and malicious torture began to tear into the thing, the last clear thing it saw was bright gold eyes, a barbarous grin, and a flash of something far older than it, and _far more powerful than it behind the deity._

It wailed, stumbling back, glass face shifting rapid-fire through hundreds of stolen and borrowed features, all open mouthed and wide eyed with undiluted agony. The Knight took his chance, racing forward, dragging his sword into the ground between the deity and the creature. Inkwell took it from there, adding yet another into the space program.

Lady Mugs hissed, annoyed to lose yet _another_ gown. Granted, he could just wash the soul liquid off, but that would take a good few hours, and would require finding a river. His magic, sure it was clear to go all out now, flash healed him, sealing the cracks up just in time for a direly worried brother to slide over to him, dropping to his knees to start the process of looking for unrepaired damage. Mugs wasn’t worried about that, and the dress quickly fell to the back burner as the shadow under the alternate Cuphead continued to roll and splash. He sent a quick glance full of several questions on how to proceed over to his brother who returned it with a great big shrug.

Sighing barely above a whisper, he got to his feet, shifting carefully around the rattling god. He took in the wild eyes, the grit teeth, the ferocity in every line on the other, and opened his arms, blue eyes open, soft. He didn’t squeak when he was picked up and hugged tightly, but that was because he’d sort of expected that. He pat the alternate Cuphead on the heaving back, humming a tune his own brother often found soothing. His own brother shakily got to his feet, checking himself for any injuries, keeping half an eye on the stranger wearing his face. He locked gazes with his brother.

‘What do I do?’

‘How should I know?’

‘He’s you!’

‘He just tore limbs off a mirror thing! I have never been that angry!’

‘That’s an outright lie, and you aren’t helping!’

‘You’re the diplomat! You figure it out!’

Mugs didn’t sigh, didn’t roll his eyes, but he did stop humming.

“There there,” He cooed, hugging the other tightly, “Who’s made my other brother so upset hmm? Would you like to talk about it?” He asked hesitantly, keeping his voice low and gentle. He felt the other give a shaky sigh into his shoulder, and an even shakier nod.

====-====-====-====

“Yer got yer brain workin’ yet?” Jendy asked, pleased that the glass between him and the group didn’t react to their efforts to smash it so they could peel the ink from him in however many layers it took. Henry frowned, face stained with numerous splashes and streaks of ink, clothing drenched in the stuff.

“Okay, I’m feelin generous, so I’ll give a hint!” Jendy clapped his hands together, peppy as could be.

“Each an’ every one of yer friends died in that studio. All of ‘em keeled over and were devoured by yers truly. Figuratively of course… well… technically literally in Wally’s case, you can thank _that_ one for that by the way.” He pointed to Tom, and though he meant Boris, he swore a couple of them thought he meant Tom.

He wasn’t going to correct them, because it was funnier that way.

“Now do you remember what I said earlier? About our kill count on you?” He paused, wondering if he should add more, then decided he’d save the full speech for the throne room where he hoped the theater took some time to remodel so he could dramatically fill the others in on just how far off hopes of escaping were.

====-====-====-====

“An he just shrugged it off!” Cuphead ranted, waving his arms in the air as he laid on his back, head pillowed by the thick skirts Lady Mugs wore, feather still aglow. Mugs let out a sympathetic noise, gently patting his shoulder, remaining silent so he could continue. His brother sat a good number of feet away, face beet red with suppressed laughter, shoulders shaking violently.

“Kinda jackass brother just, and _the look on his stupid face!”_

“I’m sure it was terrible.”

“ _Yes.”_ The deity hissed, eyes narrowed, indignation radiating off of him. The knights head dropped off his shoulders, falling into the ground that opened up below him. While the deity couldn’t hear it, Lady Mugs was all too aware his brother was hysterically laughing even if the body was stationary.

“I mean what _else_ was I gonna do but punch him!”

“He left you with no choice really.”

“Yeah see!”

The Knight wheezed from underground and even through the dirt both above could hear “You punched yourself! You actually punched yourself!” Followed by louder laughter. The god groaned, throwing an arm over his face. The Lady cooed, patting the arm reassuringly. Mostly because he couldn’t join his sibling and laugh exactly how he wanted to.

“What even started all this if you don’t mind me asking?” Mugs asked, hoping bringing the others train of thought to other things would soothe him faster. Though, he _was_ less agitated than before, and Mugs _swore_ he’d seen golden eyes in the others shadow peer at him curiously a few times.

Evidently that had been the wrong thing to ask.

The deity shot up, face bright with ire. The Knight flinched, hand twitching towards his swords but doing nothing else as half the god fell into his own shadow. Numerous oddities flew out—in the case of a chicken with a megaphone attached to its beak, it literally flew out. The other could be heard scrounging around, muttering here or there about an item or two until he finally cheered.

Lady Mugs jolted, rearing back as something black was shoved in his face.

“ _This little demon!”_ Mugs leaned back further so he could get a clear view of the thing, and stars promptly grew in his eyes.

“Oh! Brother look at the cute little bowtie!” Mugs took the little doll, showing said bowtie to a brother whose face pinched. The Knight and deity locked eyes for a moment, but that moment was enough.

‘You son of a bitch.’

‘I didn’t think yours would be like mine!’

“It squeaks! Cuphead I love it!”

‘I hate you so much.’

‘I was about to apologize but knowing you have to deal with the squeaking just like I do? Enjoy suffering.’

‘Shadow or not, I’m punching you.’

“Oh how could this snazzy little fella be so much trouble?” Mugs asked, squeaking the doll a couple more times enthusiastically. Both Knight and deity felt a bit unnerved how the little sewn smile seemed brighter than it had any right to be.

“I mean, its not that doll, its more who the doll was modeled after,” And Cuphead fell into the story, trying his best to shorten it without leaving the two entirely lost. Every so often a little squeak would pop out, and the Knights eye would twitch. For that reason, the deity refrained from mentioning the giant plush still lurking in his shadow.

====-====-====-====

Jendy cackled, adrenaline coursing through him. It was _grand_ to be a genuine threat this time around. No dangly legs worthlessly doing nothing. He didn’t even change his form. He instead opened up countless ink portals, above and below, making finding the switches twice as difficult as the ink swirled around them, obscuring them. Not only that, but searchers and Hammy and even another projectionist hounded after them. He could have used Boris, but he hated the hound more than he hated almost everyone he was antagonizing, so…

He’d almost gotten Allison, being _so close_ to ripping her throat out before Tom was on him. But Tom was horrible at fighting him. Especially when Jendy was smaller, faster, and _loathed him._

He’d dropped the hounds head on Allison to get the grief-stricken woman to pause long enough for him to escape and reset himself.

Henry had a healthy scratch on his back, Alice had only half of her right arm still attached. The one thing keeping Jendy from truly offing him or her was the fact that she was right next to Henry, and Bendy. And as it turned out, Bendy was far from frozen when it came to protecting Henry.

The two clashed numerous times, and each time, all anyone else had to do was look away from the fight and like the cutouts, all injuries on Bendy would vanish. Jendy however, had to fall back into the ink to fix himself. Sammy and Norman continued to be powerhouses, taking their self-assigned jobs of messing with the portals and crushing the other threats like champions. Allison wound up with them, lending a hand when she wasn’t desperately trying to clear her tears from her face and look back where Toms body had melted away.

Being entirely fair, it wasn’t Jendy that brought Tom back out, mauled and mindless. That was the theater. But because he got the feeling she wouldn’t believe him if he tried telling her, he let her curse him into oblivion.

It was a mess of running and shouting and finding switches and all the various noises of fighting. From gunfire to the sound of ink being splat as violently as possible against walls and corners and floors.

To Jendy, it was _glorious_.  

Easily the most fun he had in a good while. It would have been more fun to off all of them, but even he knew when he was out of his depth and needed to back off. Besides, his goal wasn’t to get stomped out there. No, he needed to be functional and not like that searcher that just had its head ripped off.

He still sprang out, being quite the annoyance, but Bendy had caught on to what he was doing, and was springing out of his own portals, tracking Jendy with the off-model face all the cutouts could wear on top of a vile sneer.

Jendy however, took that as a chance to have a spot of fun, bringing the fight around Henry and Alice once in a while just to see the magic of the cutouts kick in, making Bendy go from unnerving to ‘angry gremlin’ back to unnerving any time Henry looked his way. He wasn’t apologizing for that either, it was funny.

What was less funny was being picked up by the malformed Tom and thrown into the wall quite violently. The hound let out a warped cry of victory, throwing all of his weight and speed into the ensuing lunge. A sharp whistle had him slam into the wall just beside the dazed demon, and that was when Mugman joined the fray. Jendy’s bowtie fluffed in agitation aimed at himself. Getting back to his feet, he whispered something to the ink as the last lever was hit and the numerous doors slid open.

Tom narrowly missed grabbing Mugman’s arm, then was crushed beneath the massive hand from the river. Allison let out a mournful wail, sobbing as Norman heaved her up and they sprint for the room with the pipes. Henry turned the switch, and the room flooded with what sounded like a battlefield being leveled by a hail of bombs and gunfire. He shrieked, just about slamming his back into the wall and diving down. Alice cursed, laying into one of the pipes while searching for a pool of ink she could use. The perfected studio version of Jendy pounced out of the grated floor, intent to get Sammy or Norman down. He was nailed in the throat by Allison. Wheezing, he fought to throw her off, and it took Mugs whistling to her, lightly hefting Toms mechanical arm up.

She tore her sword out of Jendy’s chest, face ugly with wrath.

The ultimate insult to her was being smacked across the face by Tom’s arm when her initial flurry of attacks were nimbly avoided. It did little to lessen the pain of Jendy’s claws tearing through her back, ripping her spine out. Jendy however, didn’t have time to celebrate the little win, not when Mugman was moving again, using his tall frame to leap above Sammy and bring Norman to the ground with his weight, however slight it was. One pipe shattered, and Jendy hastily hauled Mugman up and away from the initial flood of ink, absentmindedly kicking Sammy away as he rattled something to Mugman and the ink.

Mugman was dropped into an ink portal, taken back to the lighthouse. Jendy loved having him around, but didn’t love the idea of ink messing him up anymore. He turned, and his opponent became Bendy once more as three false projectionists and five brute Boris’s flooded in, acting as backup.

====-====-====-====

“And you aren’t drinking soda out of his skull?” The Knight finally asked after a solid minute of silence. The godly version of him groaned, flopping back onto the grass.

“We’ve tried! But anything we do gets fixed when he comes back!”

The Lady hummed, tapping his nose with a finger. The doll let out a squeak just a breath later and the teen sat straight.

“A golem!” The other two stared at him, one in confusion, the other in growing understanding.

“Mugs, their critters might be different though, he could be anything.” Mugs nodded patiently.

“Everything he’s said though, points to a golem, one who doesn’t have a master anymore.” The Lady stood, brushing grass and dirt off the thick skirts.

“How’s that help me though?” The deity _almost_ whined, rolling back into a sitting position. Mugs gave him a mischievous smile.

“Cuphead, golems have quite the temper. It’s all that went into them throwing everything they have into expressing what the golem ultimately knows it should feel. Your brother has set the stage by the sounds of it, you’re just being a terrible player.” The god was hauled to his feet by the Knight as the Lady began to slowly move towards the well.

“So we gotta get him angry?”

“Not just angry,” the Knight remarked, “Enraged, past the point of ‘count to ten and calm down’. Or just get him distracted enough to put him in a world of hurt.”

“No,” Mugs shook his head. “Not hurt, rending body parts does little to sorts like him.”

“What would you do?” Deity Cuphead asked, allowing himself to be nudged towards the well. Mugs smile twitched, green and yellow lightning dancing through the air around him.

“I’d make him crush his own skull.” The dark gleam flew from his eyes faster than the unnatural glow around him, replaced by sunshine. “But that’s because he’s a bunch of souls and I’m a Necromancer.”

“Is he one too?”

“Nope. I’m the super cool Knight, I get to shoot things with magic and stab a lot. Speaking of, I’m surprised your version of Chalice hasn’t speared him, this thing is pretty effective against souls.” The Knight answered.

The deity smiled stiffly. “I broke it after she killed my brother with it.” The Knight and Lady paused.

“I didn’t even know you could break this thing…” Sir Cuphead weakly rubbed at the chiming bracelet on his handle. The Lady let out a tiny sigh and reached over to pluck blades of grass out of the gods collar.

“Now, and don’t be mad, but you’ve been getting weaker while you’ve been here, and I’m sure your brother misses you through all that gross ink on him. Good luck other brother!” Cuphead only realized he’d been led to the edge of the well when thin gloved fingers nudged him off the edge. Pointedly, the Knight’s smile was a tad vindictive.

In the silence that befell the two as the waters settled, a squeak rang out. Mugs giggled cheerfully, squeaking it rapidly. Sir Cuphead groaned, annoyed he hadn’t figured out how to get rid of the doll or give it back to his alternate.

Meanwhile, in a toy factory, workers scrambled to figure out what ‘Miek ern skeek’ meant. Inkwell however, couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the message it was trying to give about wanting all the toys to do as the little doll did.

====-====-====-====

To say the group were in a foul mood upon reaching the throne room for the second time was an understatement. Jendy however, reclined, limp as could be in his suped up gilded throne. He held the record in his hand, tossing it up and down lazily. Once they were all in, all doors slammed shut, he shifted to plop the reel in, and laid back to watch.

Henry, who’d downed another potion while they’d been moving to the throne room, leaned heavily on Sammy as the potion did its work. Instead of playing just a ‘the end’ card, it showed a different phrase.

‘It will never end’ The screen slid, flickered, and another phrase appeared.

‘The dead cannot leave.’

“Not with _that_ attitude.” Henry groaned, barely strong enough to laugh. Jendy however, had no such trouble, he belted out powerful, rib shaking laughs that almost sent him toppling off the throne.

“Well gee that’s funny, that weird drew fellow said if you can dream it you can do it!” Alice spoke with her voice pitched high, looking so falsely confused it was comical. Jendy only laughed harder, smashing his hand on the plush seat repeatedly. After a few moments, he wiped an inky tear from his eye and sat up.

“Oh that enthusiasm is great! Really sets the mood!” He gestured grandly around him, eyes alight with malicious glee. “But it don’t help much does it? Haven’t you figured it out Henry?” He held up his hand when Henry shook his head, far too exhausted to think about the game Jendy was rather oddly setting up.

“Drew sets up a rickety ol’ machine, a real piece of work no decent fella would ever want their name on. He does it because he’s an idiot with the impulsiveness of a drunk surrounded by people cheering em on. Spot of black magic here, bit of murder there, and poof! Out comes exactly what he thought he wanted! Me. Except dumber, an’ yes. I know you think I’m dumb already, but ramp that up by ten and ya have early me. If yer look hard enough y’ can see real old imprints where I kept running into walls.”

He leaned further on the seat, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair.

“First soul I received wasn’t one I got myself. Drew got it fer me. And the next, and the next. It was the fifth guy that I got, and it was because I was getting hungry. I didn’t kill Susie, and I didn’t kill Allison, Sammy was dead before he ever saw me, and Norman died because he got too close. But I never killed them, that was all Drew. I killed the fodder, the weak ones, the pansies that woulda bailed at yer initiation. Drew did the rest, until he decided he was gettin’ too old. And I was given the vague green flag t’ indiscriminately slaughter anything that walked its sorry ass into the studio.”

“You have _any_ idea how bad it was to go from ‘weenie screaming at the sight of me’ to ‘mobster hidin from the cops’? I got my head blown off! Course, he got his spine removed, post haste. It sucked fer a while, but I got better. In fact, I got real good! Good enough that Drew wanted t’ come back and see the current situation, see if he’d finally gotten what he wanted. But back t’ that black magic stuff. See, Drew thought himself real smart by doin’ what he did. Why get a barrel of moonshine when yer can just make it yerself!” He sat up straighter.

“After offing instead of offering, he forgot one. Simple. Thing. Messin’ around with the big dogs gets ya bit. He stuffed a body in that machine, and it, and me, teamed up, and stuffed his into his own sign, gears do nasty stuff t’ a body I’ll tell ya that much.” Jendy’s grin grew barbarous.

“He died five weeks before you came sauntering in. And with his last breath, he cemented the studio into its role forever. Every single soul that coulda escaped when you arrived, couldn’t anymore. You walked into an eternal graveyard nothing can destroy. And sure! Y’ might have been able t’ get out, if y’ hadn’t _unfortunately_ broken yer neck in that fall. Y’see what I’m saying, _creator?_ ” The way Jendy’s tongue curled around ‘creator’ made Bendy bare his teeth and Henry’s stomach drop.

“If y’d gotten t’ that door you wouldn’t be here! But you fell, and like that!” Jendy snapped, malice dripping from his voice. “ _Yer stuck with everyone else.”_ Jendy stood, standing on the chair happily. “All those years, all those missed conjugal visits! Here I am, yer darlin’ creation, wastin’ away, gorgin’ myself in hobos, police, demolition teams and whatever sorry bastard wandered their ass into my prison! An’ you just continue on perfectin’ yer recipes and digging up grandpa!” He pressed a gloved hand to his chest, a mock pout on his face.

“I was getting t’ thinkin’ ya hated me!” The pout fell into a dark grin far too wide to be even remotely natural.

“Good thing y’ did yerself in. Means we got the rest of time t’ work out our differences. Even if yer send me back t’ that hell on earth? You’ll be stuck with me same as everyone else! Who knows, with enough time I might figure out how t’ make all the rest of ya hear Drews senile rants!”

Norman’s projector and speaker were silent. Sammy’s mask wore a look of pure horror. Alice was unfathomably pale. Bendy was stone-faced, staring _hard_ at Jendy. Henry just, slumped, looking at the ground, limp.

“An if that don’t bring a smile to yer face, hows about I tell ya how yer family stopped by?” The room was dark, all projected shows off except the lone one, still displaying ‘the dead cannot leave’ on its screen.

“Drew! If I don’t see Henry in the next four seconds, I’m walking out of here with human leather shoes!”

Henry would have collapsed at the sound of his aunts’ voice had Sammy not been holding him.

“Aunt Lydia, isn’t this illegal?”

“So is keeping me from that fantastic bacon potato salad but here we fuckin’ are!”

“I think the door locked behind us.”

“I know how to pick locks Lou, it isn’t hard.”

“Shit, I think we left grandpa out there. And you know for a fact his spirit is probably raving about how the mixed-race babies Henriette had did this.”

“Jeffrey please, Aunt Lydia is sniffing for blood.”

“Don’t hurt your nose Auntie, there’s ink everywhere.”

“Mother _fucker, I smell Henry. Boys! Get a mosey on.”_

The world went silent. Sammy hugged Henry more than held him up.

“Aunt Lydia! There’s a corpse here!”

“Yeah okay, I knew Drews character was shit but I didn’t think it was dead.”

“Auntie, he was clearly operating to make him better!”

“Fucker failed then. And the only one here who finds it heart-wrenching is dippo over there!”

“Hey wait, did his hand just twitch?”

There was a roar then, followed by metal shrieking and surprised cries.

“Just so you know,” Jendy spoke up, “She an’ what I guess is yer nephews skinned Boris. One of em died wearing his pelt, and again, it wasn’t me. You were tying my legs to my spine using my spine that day. Hilariosuly enough it was a cutout fallin’ and tripping yer aunt down a flight of stairs that did her in. And I’d let ya listen t’ the rest, including when they found th’ machine because the comments yer aunt made? Golden. But! I think the points been made, an’ I feel like here’s a good place t’ end this wonderful play.”

With that, bright lights flooded the room, and Henry collapsed as Sammy and the rest vanished. The pair once more found themselves in the theater, on the brightly lit stage, no Jendy in sight.

The audience burst into cheers behind them.

====-====-====-====

As it turned out, the well wasn’t keen on plopping him back in his world quite yet. Perhaps it was because of the numerous curses and insults he ranted at it, but it wasn’t telling him, and never would. He wound up in an Inkwell completely devoid of life, and before anything could spring up and scare him like he got the feeling it would, he just hopped back into the water. Part of him hoped he’d pop back up either in his world or back with the other two, but instead he flopped out in yet another different Inkwell.

His only joy was knowing the damn thing couldn’t spit him out anywhere it felt like.

Thus far he’d gone from a world where Inkwell was a floating island, to a thick jungle full of beasts only deterred from eating Cuphead due to the far more terrifying one under his feet. It wasn’t every time that he’d run into alternates, but when he did, he felt himself growing more anxious, wanting to return to his brother.

The feeling only ramped up after running into the latest could have been. A very clearly possessed Mugman leaned an elbow on a bent knee, bright red and gold eyes shining with amusement.

“Is your brother like that or….”

“Running around like a headless chicken after messing up, yes. Possessed? No, I can only do one at a time.”

Cuphead’s eyes narrowed, hands seeping a light that only brought a slick smile to the others face.

“Do you even know what hitting me with that will do? It’s fantastic to know you’re equally impulsive and go the ‘threaten’ route just like his brother does. Makes me feel less fearful for my alternates entertainment options.” He leaned back, giving Cuphead a clear shot at a borrowed chest. Cuphead just scowled.

“Jokes on you, I’ve seen Devil use it to pick his teeth after fried imp night.” The other recoiled, disgust flaring across borrowed features.

“And it doesn’t blast his face off? Sweet _mercy_.” He stood, a full body rattle shaking his frame once.

“Not gonna gripe or gloat?” Cuphead asked, and the other glared.

“ _You_ aren’t this one’s sibling, whatever you do matters so little to me you could sprint to Hell and dare Devil to a drinking contest and I wouldn’t care. His big brother is being an idiot who I intend on making regret being so lacking in the ‘think first’ department.”

“Wait! Big brother?”

Borrowed brows furrowed. “Out of everything I said, _that’s_ what you catch on?”

“Is Mugs really younger?” Cuphead didn’t care that he sounded suspiciously eager, and evidently, neither did the other as he chose to nod and hold up a finger.

“By a year.”

“Yes! I have proof!” Cuphead cheered. The possessed teen actively felt a wave of pity for whatever Mugman had to deal with him, and carefully started to slip out of the clearing, intent on getting to the tower before the impulsive one fighting Wally got there.

“Wait!” Frankly the pitchfork blamed its host for pausing rather than breaking into a sprint or shortcutting through Hell.

“You realize the longer you stay in a different world the more likely you’ll be stuck there, right?” Sure, the pitchfork wasn’t actually sure on that, but the other one didn’t need to know. Still, the other Cuphead pressed on.

“If you had to deal with a golem thing, hypothetically… what—”

“Its’ master still around?” The possessed teen put a hand on his hip, leaning his weight to one side.

“Theoretically no.”

“Get it emotional. Doesn’t matter what the emotion is, just get it riled up. Now if you were this one,” It gestured to its borrowed face, “I’d say be so cute it melts. But that isn’t exactly your strong suit, _now is it?”_

“Is Mugs in any pain with you in control?” Cuphead asked, resting on his knees, not disagreeing but not agreeing to the statement. The other heaved a great sigh.

“No. He’s kicking my ass at blackjack currently. And telling me about the time baby you shoved him off the counter.”

“Don’t take him on in craps. He’ll clean you out of whatever your using for chips.” Cuphead deadpanned, feeling a spot of pity for the thing. Mostly because it was answering his questions when both knew well and good it didn’t have to, and in fact, it was being honest as well. The other nodded, a flash of relief mixed with dread going across the rather creepy eyes.

Then the other was gone, and Cuphead was remembering the very definite and absolute proof that he, in fact, was the eldest. Thus, he had all the rights to use big brother dibs on the first slices of sweets. He flopped back into the water, a big old grin on his face.

====-====-=====-====

Jendy sighed, a pleased smile broad across his face. He flopped into a neatly stacked pillow throne, just about melting into the cushions. Mugman spared him a glance, then returned to artfully untangling curtains from their ties. The place had gone from pillow hell to pillow haven. Looking like a bright, almost dreamlike room rather than the patchwork fabric vomit Jendy had overenthusiastically made it.

It was a nice, colorful, bubble of joy Jendy basked in. He figured now that he’d accomplished his biggest goal numerous times over, and devastated Henry and the rest all mostly by himself, he could relax before going into the next big goal of getting off Inkwell. The ink spat out a radio upon an idle request from his lax mind, and bright tunes filled the air.

====-====-====-====

Being spat out like a rancid candy cleared that smile faster than his mouth could register it wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Mugs… Mugs he’s got a floating head! That’s so cool!”

Cuphead wheezed, rolling onto his front, then onto his feet. Two porcelain dolls looked at him, and he looked at them. One, wearing shorts he’d called stupid before on impulse, nudged the oher wearing a similar blue pair. Both had near white hair, but only one looked exasperated and confused at the same time.

“And you bench-press Isle three for fun, your point? Sorry, people were complaining about the well and promised they’d let Elder back on the isles without sounding the natural disaster sirens every time if we helped.”

“How can you bench-press anything? You’re porcelain!” Cuphead asked, critically observing what must have been his counterpart based on the red and white striped band around the others hat. That, and he saw the same smug grin on his own face when he looked in mirrors.

“Magic, runes, and a bit of imagination from Elder.”

“ _Cuphead._ ” Both coughed at the alternate Mugman’s scolding tone, then realized what they’d done, and the doll version laughed. Mugman however, only gained a look of horror.

“ _I’m in a world with two Cupheads?!”_ He wheezed, making the doll Cuphead cackle.

“Twice the impulsive, bad decisions and shenanigans!” The doll cheered.

“Wait hang on are you saying magic makes you strong enough to heft entire islands above your head? And Elder Kettle never told me?!” Cuphead whined, and the doll version nudged his horrified brothers’ shoulder with an elbow.

“You should give him the works so he can juggle mountains too.”

“And give an alternate version of me perpetual heart attacks and no means of making him regret ripping mountains out of the ground? Have you lost it?! I’d sooner tell Mr. King Dice his suit is poorly tailored and an atrocity to the world of fashion!”

Cuphead’s Domain looked at the blue child, and its bony sockets went _wide_. The magic around the child cooed at it, nudging here or there, and the Domain let it, panicked for the first time in centuries. Whatever it was doing must have been conveyed back to its owner, because the look of discontent and horror on Mugman’s face vanished.

“Oh goodness.” He put a hand to his cheek, brows furrowed. “There’d be so much I’d have to do if I wanted to truly help you. But strength like my brothers’ would be useless against what you’ve got to contend with. I can still try to help though!” Because if there was one constant about Mugman’s that didn’t hate their siblings like one of the worlds that would forever remain in Cuphead’s nightmares, it was that the one in blue couldn’t stand seeing the one in red be in dire straits without rolling his sleeves up and attempting to help.

Cuphead wasn’t sure what was done to him or his Domain, but what he did know was that the second that _thing_ that willfully obeyed Mugman coiled around him, the true, unbelievable fear that snapped across his Domain hit him as well. Before he could recover, he was hefted up with ease by his alternate.

Mugman scolded the well as his brother strolled over, dazed alternate above his head.

“Now play nice or I’ll show you what Magic roulette is!” The brother in blue stomped his foot, the brother in red snickered, and Cuphead was back in the drink.

====-====-====-====

Bendy dropped himself and Henry into an ink portal, popping back up in the observatory now that the theater wasn’t rending that ability useless. He immediately went to the Elder standing by the sink.

“Is there a way to free Henry?” He set aside easing into things and went for broke. Elder Kettle’s brows furrowed, Chalice floated up from across the room.

“You mean free him from the thing that has him standing next to you instead of powering you?” She asked, confusion clear. “I thought that’s how you wanted it. But if you want me reaping his soul I can certainly try.” Bendy stomped his feet in panic, flailing and waving his hands in a ‘no!’ manner.

“That’s not—”

“Can you see all the souls he’s got in there?” Henry asked, voice strained and quiet. Chalice frowned deeper, nodding.

“Is there a woman—” He paused, voice catching in his throat. “Aunt Lydia, is she in there?” Bendy wrung his gloves together, nervous inky sweat beading on his head. Chalice nodded once more. And the room fell silent as Henry leaned his back on the wall and wept. Bendy didn’t try to comfort him, far too afraid he’d only make it worse.

====-====-====-====

It would take an hour for Henry to return to a state the rest could hesitantly call ‘functioning’. It was five minutes of silence that followed after Bon Bon offered him a handkerchief to wipe his face and blow his nose, that was followed by Chalice regaling him with the battle the souls fought before they inevitably fell to an entity that no amount of strangling with inky muscles torn from legs could stop.

Ten minutes after that, the water in the sink spoke up.

“I don’t know whether this is a good time or not, but I’ve got a delivery to make.” And Cuphead came flailing out of the shadows, water pouring in from the void quickly lightening to natural shadow darkness behind him. He wheezed, cursing up a storm into the floor only to be scooped up by a near manic Bon Bon who looked him over near rabidly.

“Did his ass of a brother hurt you? Do you need Auntie to cut a bitch? I’ll find a way! I’ll make soup from his bones if he made you cry!” The demented gleam in her eye made the face in the water pale, and Cuphead cough up the rest of the unwanted water.

“No, no I just figured out yet another thing Elder Kettle didn’t tell us. There’s a world out there where Mugs wears a corset though! So, I’m not that mad actually.”

Elder Kettle narrowed his eyes at his sibling, finger tapping his cane. The water weakly chuckled.

“It wasn’t by my doing! You can blame my Domain answering a request! I couldn’t bring him back faster any more than you could tell that girl you had a crush on how pretty her—” The water was hastily splashed as Elder Kettle spluttered and flailed.

“Oh but Auntie! Auntie there’s a world where there’s a candy festival and you won queen of the candy and punt a king guy off the riser thing!” Bon Bon blinked, recognizing the child’s attempt at soothing her nerves for what it was, and ultimately decided to take him up on it. She sighed, standing back to her full height.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah I learned Mugs really likes the bowtie even if he isn’t my Mugs, and he wears gold real well too and armor is amazingly cool! Oh! And I know what we gotta do! Or…try…” He fiddled with the linen on his wrist as the rest stared at him in confusion, then the water with suspicion.

“You didn’t drop psychedelic mushrooms in my boys head did you.” Bon Bon hissed, tapping the trigger to a bolt-action rifle pulled from Inkwell knew where. Cuphead stomped his foot, face red with frustration.

“Auntie we gotta make him super mad! Jendy, that is, not Elder Kettle’s brother.”

“Wha?” Bendy got out.

“Other Mugs had this look on his face when he was telling me t’ make Jendy astoundingly mad. Same one Replimug made when he was tryin’ t’ tell me how to one up Sally! So we gotta really get under his skin!” Cupheads feet stamped in his enthusiastic haste to get the instructions out and go. He quite carefully didn’t mention the possessed one, worried Bon Bon might attempt to go in and rearrange a pitchfork. Then he saw Henry and frowned.

“What’s with the face?”

“He’s found he can’t leave the studio and…” Cuphead scoffed, interrupting Chalice much to the woman’s amusement.

“Can’t leave… that’s real funny Chalice, and I’m sure Djimmi or Devil will find it funnier when I ask em to help out after we get everything fixed!”

“Boy there are limits to magic… speaking of…just what were you messing with before you got back?”

“There was a doll version of Mugs that did something and I don’t know what it is but also Elder Kettle? I coulda been bench-pressing mountains right now. Instead I’m slightly less cool! Do you have any idea how handy having that kinda strength and durability coulda been when I first got to Inkwell?”

Elder Kettle, having finally focused on just had followed his charge out, gave out the noise of a dying whale.

“Speaking of magic that looks at reality and laughs, I know just how we can start taking back the isles.” The water spoke up, catching everyone’s attention. Elder Kettle went from panicked to bright copper with embarrassment.

“Child, none of these morons thought to use their strengths against the other gods. How does starting a fight sound? With enough action going on, you’ll have all the time and help in the world to do what you need to! Not that you have much choice, that feller out here is getting impatient and real _mean._ So either you get him to mess up or you watch all of us and perhaps you pseudo die! Might even find your brother in the ink if he ain’t crazy by now.” With the group fell into a flurry of whispers, and after a moment or three, Henry joined in. He plucked Bendy off of the ground first, hugging him tightly, unreadable emotions flashing through his eyes.

Five minutes into planning, the door was slammed open and Porkrind took in the sight of everyone, he closed the door behind him, strode over, and simply added himself to the group.

They took it in stride.

====-====-====-====

**‘Haven’t I been nice? Isn’t it wonderful when you are obeying me?’**

A voice, slick as oil and dark as tar slithered from the cold depths around the deity huddled tight to his Domain. The Domain’s chest rumbled, deep, threatening growl rolling through the area.

**‘I would be nicer still if you’d just surrender. No need to play puppet, just give yourself over!’**

Mugman caught sight of a tendril of ink slipping closer to his ankle, and smacked it away angrily.

“Leave me alone! Go bother some other soul you hell-reject!” He snapped, golden eyes flashing. Harsh laughter burst out around him, making him cringe, losing the angry edge in favor of tucking himself further still into the shadowy hide of his Domain.

 _‘We are playing a game. Do not interrupt it.’_ His Domain hissed above him, coiling a blanket of thick shadows around its child.

**‘I’m merely offering an olive branch. Would you like me to bring the rest of the souls back? Rile the worst into a frenzy so you can listen to that forever? A game is paltry compared to your child’s comfort, isn’t it?’**

_‘Quite the sore loser, is he not?’_ Mugman sniffled, nodding into his knees. The _thing_ outside the circle _grinned_.

**‘Not quite, just interested in acquiring a new angle to this deal.’**

_‘Lay a hand on my child and I will make yours wish he could die.’_ The acidic tone lashed out harder than the tail crushing another tendril reaching for Mugman’s waist.

**‘Which one? The funny one or the dipshit that can’t flirt to save his life.’**

Thousands of golden eyes flared to life, all piercing straight through the thing. Taking the hint, it fell away, raspy laughter following and continuing even after it had gone away.

After a healthy amount of silence—blessed silence compared to the wails from before, the ink really had been somewhat cordial and silenced his little spot—the Domain’s child spoke.

“He was flirting?”

_‘I thought he was trying a new way of begging for his life.’_

“Maybe the flirting _was_ his attempt at begging?”

 _‘They are all weird.’_ The Domain finally said after another spot of quiet. Then it felt a whisper, and its ears perked up, dread beginning to build in its chest.

====-====-====-====

Bendy shouted Jendy’s name at the top of his lungs, following that up by banging a hammer against the rail surrounding the pit of water Inkwell Isle three circled. Jendy came out of a pool of ink angrily shouting for the noise to stop. Bendy bashed the hammer into the rail one more time quite pointedly.

“I’ve come to tell you we declare war on you and your terrible bowtie.” Bendy’s voice was strong, his chest was puffed up, and Jendy’s brows couldn’t seem to decide whether they wanted to fall low with confusion or go high with indignation.

“I can’t believe you’re actually showing your face to a dame with that sham of a tie on. It’s more insulting than you are.” Bendy continued, leaning his weight on the hammer. Jendy pressed one insulted hand to his own chest, rearing back.

“You take that back you antiquated bag of drug addicts.”

“You take that thing off first you pile of drunkards!”

And then gunfire tore out from Isle Two, and Jendy froze. Slowly, a sneering grin slipped onto his face.

“So you bozos got it in yer heads t’ throw down with them sorry bastards not wiped clean?” He leaned his weight on the rail. “This some suicide pact kinda deal? How exactly is that gonna end—”

“FOR THE GLORY!” Bon Bon shrieked from somewhere by Grim’s tower.

“I got a leg! Gonna make the biggest drumsticks ever!” Cuphead shouted from Isle two followed by panicked squawking.

A bullet pinged off the rail right beside Jendy’s arm and he shrieked, leaping back and away, entirely lost on how anything could come close. The ink helpfully informed him the shot came from the grand tower on Isle two, but before he could investigate, he was tackled by Bendy.

Henry loaded another shot, taking aim through the scope of the bright pink sniper. Bon Bon kept him steady as the pyramid exploded up into the sky. He took the shot, and Jendy’s bowtie was torn from his chest. Henry didn’t have many reasons to smile at the time, but the sound Jendy let out—akin to a balloon losing air—brought one to his face. Below them, Cuphead sprint by waving one of Wally’s legs above his head. No one quite knew what had been done to him in that well, but whatever it was made ink slide off him like it was water and make his body strong enough to withstand tearing a giant limb off a bird god without cracking to pieces.

Though, none missed how his porcelain still darkened with ink after he’d popped up to Rumor and dropped her into Retribution. Meanwhile, Cagney poured as much energy as he could into spreading a thick bed of moss across all exposed ground. The moss soaked up the ink, and was then sent into the ground, allowing clean moss to grow over it. It was enough to let him loose on Isle one, and that was how Jendy and Bendy got to see three vegetables flail around as they were spun around by vines high in the air.

The pyramid came back down on the ocean, narrowly missing the ship docked in the harbor. The train gave out a loud whistle. Jendy punt Bendy off of him, growing more and more annoyed. He turned in time to see the entire train, cars and all, be launched into the air. Chalice bared her teeth, ignoring how her body strained, but once he was in the air, she tore open her own portal, opening another just high enough that when Hott reemerged, it was directly behind his caboose, leaving him in a loop he was far too stunned to get out of. Chalice huffed, dragging her body over to the entrance to the cave. Her Domain hurried to strengthen her without taking precious healing from Hott.

Another shot rang out, and Jendy narrowly avoided getting a bullet to the head. Teeth cracking under the force of his rage, he turned, ink eagerly responding.

“Jendy? Would you care for some help?” Mugman called out just before he tripped Bendy and kicked him into a shop. Jendy immediately settled, and the ink stopped climbing the tower. Golden eyes observed him closely, lacking any judgement or scorn to Jendy’s momentary lapse in memory. Of course, then there was a red cup screaming something entirely unfamiliar to Jendy crashing down on top of Mugman, followed by a canon of all things blowing a massive hole in the railing Jendy had been closest to. The ink seethed, furious at the ship refusing to sink, Domain wrathfully hissing back at it. Canon fire continued to decimate the line of houses blocking the harbor from the rest of the isle.

Bendy was up quickly, ignoring the twins scuffling either to get away or shove what looked like a bird foot in the others face while chanting ‘drumstick’ over and over again. He went for Jendy, meeting the other as he went to help Mugman. Bendy might not have been good at fighting, but he was _grand_ at being annoying, and every time he was thrown off he just sprang back up, taking advantage of his body switching off the pain response due to his determination to help Henry.

Mugman sprint by, snapping something at Cuphead in that unfamiliar language. That was answered with rowdy laughter from Cuphead, who chased right behind. The chase led them to Kahl’s side, the moment they stepped into the junkyard, the massive figure of a robot rose. It had gone from patrolling to waiting, and sprang up upon intruders doing what intruders do, intrude.

Mugman dove into the building before a laser could attempt to fry him, Cuphead immediately behind, both evading the attack. As they crashed through the building, Cuphead paused to drop Kahl into Retribution, not missing how Mugman’s eyes burned brighter gold when he did so.

“If you think I’m burning that ink away you’re sorely mistaken!” Mugman warned. Cuphead shrugged.

“Did you know you look real cool in yellow? I’m telling Sally her next play should be Beauty and the Beast. Anyway, off to see how far I can punt Jendy, bye!” And then it was Mugman’s turn to chase Cuphead, surprise coloring the others dusky face.

Rumor erupted in a blaze of fury from the shadows closest to Cagney. She let out a war cry and tore the roof off the observatory, using it as a shield and bashing the rising form of Goopy back into the river.

“You sham of a life!” She belted out towards Isle Three. “See if I don’t find a plague that affects your sorry ass you mother fu—”

“Rumor! Sister it’s wonderful to see you!” Cagney cheered.

“I just got put through what amounts to a washing machine after losing to _that ineffectual back alley splatter!_ ”

“I missed you too! Bet you can’t make Beppi fly.”

Rumors ensuing grin made the word barbarous shrink and concede defeat.

====-====-====-====

“One hell of a setup you got goin on here!” Jendy growled. Bendy bowed, teeth dripping ink from a massive bite he’d taken out of Jendy’s shoulder. One that Jendy had thrown himself into the ink to fix. “Did you find a spine in that theater?” He questioned, tone mocking. Bendy’s smile widened.

“Yeah, one of the ones we tore out of you, _Bentony_.”

Jendy seethed, ink boiling around him as he let out a scream and dove at Bendy. The two collided, and it was Bendy that lost the scuffle that time, being sent back into a light post. A sniff behind Jendy had him spinning on his heel, confused to see a pig with a cigar in his mouth.

“Wanna see somethin’ detonate?” The pig asked. Jendy glanced away, then back at the pig. The pig tossed a vial into the air, and Jendy wasn’t sure what made him catch it, but he did. An oddly colored viscous fluid started to bubble away.

“Jendy throw it!” Mugman shrieked from the distance, sliding on the stones, changing his target from his brother to the confused toon. Jendy did so, throwing it behind him into the water below. Porkrind ducked into a building, Cuphead vanished from the clearing, and Mugman crashed into Jendy just as a massive explosion rocked the area. Ink stained water shot a clear mile into the sky from the clearing. Jendy and Bendy gawked at it, and Jendy only barely remembered to shove Mugman into the ink and back to Isle one before the wave slammed into the area.

Bendy squealed happily as he was washed into the harbor by a wave, catching sight of Jendy smacking into a building behind him.

====-====-====-====

Despite saying there’d be no fire, a little found its way into the water, and whatever had been done to Cuphead latched onto it almost reverently. A tiny spark turned into a blaze, and though it lacked the power the true fire would have, it was certainly enough to reset Cuphead’s Domain.  Cuphead too, returned to a healthy snow white. Kahl stood on the roof of a building, cackling as fire erupted below him from a contraption on his hand, bright blue and spitting out so much heat Wally actually started to smell like a roast chicken.

“Where’d Mugs go?” Cuphead whispered to himself as he sprint towards Beppi and Rumor. He was answered by the other sliding out of the shadow, snatching his head by the handle and lobbing his noggin, dusky face bright with fury. The shadows caught it, putting it right back over Cuphead’s shoulders.

Cuphead pounced.

====-====-====-====

Bendy puffed out hard breaths as he sprint away from the furious demon hounding him. Gunfire kept Jendy from truly grabbing Bendy, and that was only making him angrier.

“I’m just tryin t’ get off this island! Why won’t you leave me alone and stay miserable!” Jendy screeched, having to dive into the ink as a bullet tore through his chest.

“Fuck you is why!” Henry shouted from where he stood on a roof. The shadows that had dropped him off returned to their lighter state. Mugman returned, likely due to Jendy’s agonized cry as another bullet nailed Jendy directly in the head, sending him into the ink.

Golden eyes locked onto Henry, then went wide as Porkrind stepped out, hauling him up off the ground with a hearty “There’s m’ favorite nephew!”

Mugman flailed, unable to overpower Porkrind and escape. Jendy returned, sending Henry off the roof. Henry was caught by a net firefighter’s used courtesy of Bendy’s quick toon mind.

“I shouldn’t even be calling you Jendy!” Henry called out. “Should be Joey Jr with how miserable you turned out!” The ink erupted into a sea of countless limbs diving for Henry and Bendy as Jendy just about _burned_ with fury.

“Daddy issues ahoy!” Henry shouted as the shadows carried him away. A castle went into the air on Isle two, letting out noises akin to a massive panicked dove as it began to pirouette through the sky.

“Jendy!” Mugman cried, but to Porkrind, it sounded less panicked and more like his nephew, or the Domain, was giving a warning. One that was heeded by the other as he sucked in a grand breath. Far steadier, Jendy dove into the ink.

“Rascal.” Porkrind bopped Mugman’s nose with his free hand, and the other flailed, flashes of white stained with black flashing past the dusky shadows.

Jendy reappeared, intent to save Mugman, only for Bendy to once more intercept him and Henry to haul him off the ground, throwing him into the decimated central pool. Mugman squirmed out of Porkrind’s grip, taking advantage of how little the man wanted to hurt him or break him and quickly going to help Jendy. But not before dropping Porkrind into the shadows and back to Isle one.

Bendy tried to distract Mugman again, but Mugman wasn’t having any of it, digging his fingers into Bendy’s hands, eyes burning a bright, dangerous gold. Bendy wasn’t going down easy, well aware they needed to get Mugman away. Mugman appeared to know that as well, based on how determined he was to break free. What Bendy didn’t expect however, was for a searcher of all things to spring out and grab his leg. He shrieked, letting go of Mugman as he was slammed into the ground. Mugman let out a noise of surprise, hastily smacking the stray hand coiling tightly around his wrist. The searcher wailed suddenly, boiling under Jendy’s wrath as the other escaped Henry enough to remind the souls within just what a bad idea it was to lay a hand on his Doll.

Within the ink however, Jendy wasn’t aware enough of what was going on. With so much to focus on, it was little surprise that the ink finally wrapped around a thin ankle, hauling Mugman away from his Domain, and from safety. Mugman shrieked, clawing into the ground, reaching for his panicked Domain as ink slid up his legs, around his arms, intent to drag him away to be left to the mercilessness of the _thing._

The distraction reflected in the outside world, with Mugman collapsing, cold horror pouring from him. Jendy stomped _hard_ on the ink, and would have scolded the ink, demanded it stop, had Bendy not buried teeth and claws into his shoulder and face.

Domain once more holding its child, fire blazed around it, it howled. A piercing noise that cut through the ink, through the air of the world, and brought a _dark, nasty grin_ to Cuphead’s face.

“Hey,” Jendy shrieked, lobbing Bendy over the rail and skittering away from the frankly horrifying grin inches from his face. Cuphead’s features were dark, mouth pulled back in a far from friendly or natural grin, teeth definitely sharper than he remembered the cup having. “What kinda terrible partner are you?” Cuphead asked, voice gravelly and low. Jendy bared his own teeth.

“Look what you’ve done to my brother.” It wasn’t a demand, but it wasn’t a request. “You’ve been neglecting him, letting that ink do whatever it feels like to him. How cruel of you!” The deity easily dodged the angry swing, forcing Jendy to his feet so he could continue his enraged assault.

“I heard my boy scream!” Bon Bon’s voice carried through the area. Rumor descended on the area, smashing the stones she landed on into dust, swords glinting with ink and blood in the light.

“This has to be the third damn round! Do people not learn not to mess with those above them?” She growled, bashing a searchers skull in, throwing the sword away as ink devoured it. Mugman shakily got to his feet, dusky features flickering. It wasn’t fear that made the illusion waver, but _utter hatred._ Cold eyes burned, the searcher that had been approaching shakily nodded, and backed off. The _thing_ recoiled, far from smiling as it had before.

“I can’t tell it what to do all the time!” Jendy snapped back. “It ain’t as easy as it looks you ratty children’s tea set!”

“Excuses!” Bendy called out, swinging a hammer into a searcher while Henry opened fire.

The castle crashed into a building beside the group, an onion ate pavement across the way, a rat was turned into a massive statue, and angrily wiggled within the remains of its house. Another wave of canon fire ripped across the clearing. One shredded the rail a mere inch from Mugman, and the blue deity screamed. Jendy’s form wavered, ink around him growing deathly still.

“ _That’s enough.”_ He snarled, and Bon Bon belt out a healthy curse as the ink wrapped around her. Rumor tried to tear the ink away, only for it to coil around her instead. A massive hand rose from the central pool and beside the ship.

“Jendy!” Mugman called out, and Bendy launched at him, only to squeal when he was bat away by a swift twist and shift from his target. “Jendy don’t!”

Brineybeards ship gave out a roar as it was dragged into the ink. Bon Bon and Rumor broke free by sacrificing their gowns and tearing off their limbs. They vanished, carried away by their Domains.

Everything went still as the waters, visible from the buildings blocking the view being shredded by the canon and mortar fire from the ship, fell just as motionless. Jendy’s chest heaved, realization dawning on him as the creaking of a ship breaking apart echoed in his mind, clear as day to one who heard the slightest noise. Cuphead scrambled away, going over to Henry, confusion warring with satisfaction that didn’t stem from him, but his Domain. He knew he’d done it, but what _it_ entailed, the deity didn’t know.

“ _Jendy.”_ Mugman’s voice was low, cool. Jendy hastily lifted his hands to the other imploringly.

“It uh, it’s not… They were attackin me!”

“ _You could have run.”_ The other replied, far more composed from before. The air began to descend in temperature.

“But they hurt you!” Jendy tugged on his bowtie, ink sliding down his face to be hastily wiped away.

“ _You told me to stay by your side, I would have followed if you left.”_

“Well I… I mean we all make mistakes, right” Jendy let out an awkward laugh.

‘ _Child, cover your eyes.’_ Cuphead flinched, soul liquid rushing through his body, pseudo adrenaline tearing through him, making his limbs rattle with anticipation he only knew came from his Domain, but not the reason for it. He ignored it, far too tense to move.

Mugman shifted, and the shadows condensed behind him, giving sight to a sleek hound, soft golden eyes lined with the gold. Ears tipped with the precious metal perked high. A low smile coiled onto Mugman’s face.

“ _You have a point.”_ Those closest could finally see how, though the voice was Mugman’s his mouth hadn’t moved that time.

“A-and I can fix it too! Just, its just a little slip-up on my part is all!” The desperation around Jendy was palpable, his whole body shivered under the intensity of his nervousness.

“ _Indeed, and you know, I certainly won’t say I don’t make mistakes.”_

_‘Child.’_

Jendy nodded. The ink, the _thing_ scrambled to find the thing just devoured, only to find a sea of souls making it like trying to find a rock in a quarry. The shadows grew heavier still, and the sleek black fur began to drip off, revealing a dusky skull, gold gleaming even as the fur beneath that area disintegrated. Thick, heavy hands shrouded in fabric and shadows laid deceptively gently on Mugman’s frail shoulders as the thing leaned further still over its child.

“ _You happen to break deals, and me?”_ A lone claw softly slid up and around until the paw turned hand turned shadowy mass turned paw, shifted, matching the same handprint inked onto the toons face, now _very_ visible as the dusky shadows slipped away.

 _“I forget my strength.”_ A sharp crunch, a single move, and the remains of Mugman’s shattered head fell into the shadows. The body collapsed, as if the strings had been cut. The still form vanished from both the ink and the area, leaving only the ghastly skull to give Jendy a disdainful grin, before it too vanished, leaving no trace of the blue deity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I've said it a lot before, where i'll get close to the end, realize there's more chapters available technically, and go into a great debate. It's looking like the last chapter is going to be the next one. That's right! Just this one and that one and then! Whatever i intend to do with the remaining chapters. Whether i get rid of that number or i use them. I've asked before for input but that doesn't really get anything so I won't be doing that. And no, I won't be explaining what took this so long.  
> Yes, I do have plenty of other things planned. Including a less hysterical BatIM take.  
> I've also been letting my other open stories sorta flounder, so those are going to get overhauls and attention.  
> As for the chapter?  
> You ever see someones impending fuck up from a distance and have to have a hearty debate whether you'll get to the popcorn in time? That was Cuphead's Domain the whole time.  
> I would put the drawings i've done for their Domains up here, but again, not sure that's a good idea. Might slap them onto DA, and just link that. Might not. I feel at this point Deity Cup could be in a room listening to all the other Cupheads chat about all the miserable things they've had to see and he just "Got to see my brother die twice." and the rest go silent.


	23. Fin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly.

Within the shadows, Cuphead shrieked, soul liquid frozen in rattling limbs. He registered, if only by proxy of being right next to the two, Henry cursing, and Bendy dropping into a dead faint. Beyond a scant few feet however, everything was faded and blurred, his eyes unable to focus.

‘You can’t do that.’ He thought. Though he wasn’t sure whether he thought that to Mugman’s Domain, or Mugman, either way, it was his own that answered.

_‘As an absolute last resort? Yes.’_

‘He hurt my brother, he can’t do that. You can’t do that.’

‘ _We can, we do not like to.’_

‘My…you’ve never done that before, you can’t do that.’

His mind was trapped in a endless repeat of ‘you can’t do that’. Over and over, growing more frenzied and horrified. His shadow didn’t answer any more of them, choosing instead to focus on keeping the great howling wails erupting from the scales, from the massive pieces and fragments from the broken, towering object. Shattered and scattered about, the wailing echoed to a point where even the Domain’s bones rattled. It couldn’t let its child hear them, he’d only fall further into grief. So it focused everything on that, on keeping them separate.

It would simply have to trust the human would protect its child enough until it could settle its dear Scale.

====-====-====-====

Jendy’s chest ached. A tearing weight dragging every light feeling he’d been spoiled by down into the souls furthest down. His mouth wobbled, a horrible facsimile of a smile held up only by sheer force of habit. His hands strangled his bowtie, wringing the poor thing in his building flurry of emotions he had no name for.  The souls within struggled, great waves of varied feelings washing higher and higher up his mind, threatening to drown it.

_‘Man I was dumped once, that ain’t even close to this.’_

_‘Jeffrey what the fuck.’_

_‘Does this thing even have a heart to break?’_

_‘Jeffrey shut the fuck up!’_

_‘I’ve heard of breaking it off but—’_

“He… that…that’s not a nice joke Doll.” Jendys voice wavered just as much as his smile, too weak to exceed a whisper. He hardly registered how the ink going down his face wasn’t from his brow line. He turned to the others, a cold setting into his body as the red one’s face displayed every ounce of horror many of the souls felt. He tried to continue talking, but his non-existent throat caught, and he looked back where the other used to be.

His Doll was gone.

His Partner was gone.

All because he forgot himself. _And he’d been_ _doing so well._ How happy the other had been when he’d shown how good he was at keeping himself and his ink in check! He’d done _so well_. Even before his Doll spoke back he’d done his best! A crest of gut churning sorrow ebbed, giving way to the flow of bitterness. He’d messed up here or there, but dragging one single soul down, _not even a useful one at that,_ was what tipped the Dame off? Many within nodded, groaning about the fickleness of dames and broads.

The ink remained silent, loosely circling the cage where the prize had sat, turned to scattered pieces of a plan dawning clear as day to the entities within. Ones that didn’t have a hand in the emotions crushing their preferred child, dragging him around, drowning his thoughts. Merely marking the results down for later. Unaffected though they were, driven by knowledge they were, they still couldn’t resist a single desire. One tiny little thing that had driven them thus far when all orders from the original summoner, their original masters, vanished.

His Doll was gone.

The battles around inkwell had fallen to the wayside, with deities scrambling to find out what had happened without approaching Isle Three, their Domain’s screaming for them to avoid it at all costs. Those still covered in ink had long since fallen into agony driven rampages, throwing themselves at whatever they could that wasn’t suffering like they were, even as their Domain’s steered them away as best they could. So out of practice they were, it was difficult to keep Rumor from being gutted by Hilda, or Cagney from being drowned by Goopy. The Domain’s within the ink shuddered, unsure of the change in atmosphere.

The bitterness ebbed, falling to the wayside, no longer the strongest emotion the majority of souls felt. Sorrow spilled more ink down Jendy’s cheeks, even as in the distance, he heard the weak voice of the red one start to mutter. He vaguely knew Bendy was getting back up, dazed under the onslaught of emotions even the souls in him felt.

His Doll was gone.

But not voluntarily. No, he’d seen flashes of the white and black. He’d seen them. And much like he’d been a puppet of Joey, surely that could be the same for his partner? Jendy could understand that, being at the mercy of something far stronger, demanding, and unsympathetic to everything the one on the front lines went through as long as the desired result was obtained. Even now, Jendy’s thoughts, slowly reaching for a train, lost their purchase, slipped further into the new wave of grief.

_‘How immortal are these guys again?’_

_‘We never stress tested them.’_

_‘We have some subjects right here, it’d be a great way to—’_

“That’s right…” Jendy’s voice was still fragile, still weak, unheard by those trying desperately to escape the ink writhing along the floors. A tiny chuckle, cracked and frail, escaped his mouth, and his hands stilled, grief dragged further down in place of a new mix of emotions.

Immortal they’d said. Died once before to become what they were now. But _how_ immortal? Jendy, or more, the _thing,_ knew quite clearly that immortal did not translate to invulnerable. Somewhere out there could be his Doll, the pieces scattered about, waiting for him to puzzle them back together. But how sure was he? Or more importantly, how much did that matter when the cause of all these emotions still stood there, _doing nothing._

_Gloating at him. Mocking him for taking away his Doll, his prize._

Rage slid around his mind, coiling loosely, lovingly, a familiar emotion that had been with him longest. It remained loose, crushing only the remaining waves, silencing them so he could think.

Think that, though his Doll was gone, he wasn’t unreachable.

His Doll could be found.

But could he? When the _things_ that had taken him from Jendy _stood right there._

If it hadn’t been for them, for their incessant _inability to just leave him alone._ He’d still have a cool hand to hold, an equally creative mind to explain all the various plans he concocted to escape Inkwell or pick on the rest. He’d _earned_ the other, stolen him, and they’d taken him away.

Henry, the only one more lost than horrified, was the first to notice how the oceans of ink started to grow louder. In the distance, inky water rose higher and higher up invisible walls, only to fall back down, crashing over the docs, heaving up the rocky faces. The ink writhing on the ground grew more erratic, now actively gunning for those within the shattered buildings. Panicked cries erupted from the few places the wandering ink demon hadn’t stepped foot in, but had been opened up by the grand fight. Inky water once more crashed into the invisible wall, higher still, further up, eating past the horizon, visible even from behind Isle One.

Henry’s muscles ached, his body burned, but adrenaline was a brutal beast that cared little for the crash already hitting him from the previous fight, driving his nerves up once more. Bendy stared off ahead at nothing, terrified frown dragging his mouth down despite his unseeing eyes taking in something none of those outside of the ink could _see_.

They, and perhaps even Jendy, didn’t see the _thing_ pacing. It circled the spot where its prize had been lost, foul grin growing, stretching further. Jendy’s eyes slowly _oh so slowly_ shifted to them.

Wisps of Hell whispered to the woman against the wall. Chalice tiredly nodded, falling half into the cave, barrier seemingly devouring her, dragging her still form into the shadows of Hell. Across the way, on Isle one, Inkwell drowsily watched as hellfire spread carefully around the ink, leading up to the two nature deities, devouring them in a bright flash of dark violet fire. Kahl, Elder Kettle, and Bon Bon didn’t have a chance to so much as hear their Domains pour words of thanks to the one that snatched them from their resting places, taking them from Inkwell.

The theater tensed, shoving its actors below the stage, ignoring the surprised cries. It couldn’t do the same for its child, but chained as she was, crushed in an unnaturally powerful grip by the bones of her husband, it figured that was as good as it was going to get with such little preparation time. The well remained stagnant, aware that it too, could do little else other than wait for whichever outcome decided their fate. Its’ child slipped back into sleep, knowing how fruitless worrying over his fate was.

Nothing would have happened if they hadn’t gotten in his way _again._ The entire time he’d been there, he’d done _nothing_ but ignore them when the mood to antagonize didn’t strike him. If they’d just told him how to get out of the barrier, he’d have gone out of his way to never see their faces for the rest of his life. He’d be somewhere in the world, taking his freedom for everything it was worth with a partner at his side. Instead… Instead he was here, still on Inkwell, short a second hand, and overflowing with _wrath._

Ink that was greedily dragging as many souls as possible into it, dredging up souls deep in the ocean, or tied to the one with countless dead still on its many carriages, inhaling them. Adding them. Anywhere there was a soul aside from the Theater, it swiped. Feeding itself, gorging itself as much as it could. It fed its preferred childs building anger, eagerly answering the growing call for _more._ The more Jendy had, the less they did. The less they had, the less they could do.

**_“You.”_** Jendy’s voice resonated through the ink around them, deep and _hateful._ The ground under the ink cracked, as if a great weight smashed down onto it. His form rippled, shifting, growing to the form from the studio, perfected. Razor sharp nails, lanky limbs with ink sliding up and down, rising with each heaving breath the demon took. Ink slid down his face, marring the eyes, leaving nothing but two red pupils to glow maliciously against the black surface. No silly spine, no slouch, no limp leg, and not a single iota of something that could be called a smile. Merely a face splitting sneer.

Bendy watched the _thing_ , watched it turn to him, showing the full extent of its barbarous grin.

“Henry.” He weakly called out.

**_“YOU!”_** Jendy, once stationary, twisted, and sent Bendy flying into a building, straight through the wall. Henry’s gun was torn from his hands and crushed into useless metal scraps. Henry avoided the first swing, but couldn’t avoid the second. He slammed into a mailbox, mind blazing with _pain, so much pain._

Cuphead stood there before the seething demon, still muttering ‘you can’t do that’. Jendy reached for him, determined to crush more than just bones. He snarled when the other suddenly dipped low and evaded him.

**_“You took him from me!”_** Jendy wailed, shifting his weight to chase after the oddly moving toon.

_‘Child please! I cannot command you like this!’_ The slip was enough, the wails cut through, and Cuphead _screamed._

**_“Give him back!”_** Jendy answered. Controlled limbs strained to avoid the rapidfire swings. Ink waited for the wretch to slip. It would show the red child what happened when its child was hurt. As it dug tendrils into the souls once secure in the holds of Domains now dragged out and away, it fed on them, giving Jendy more speed, more strength. The ocean surged, rising to eclipse the garden of the three gods, slipping up the supports of the Ferris wheel until there was nothing keeping it from toppling over onto whatever laid in its path. The coaster shattered, the mausoleums flooded, the docks were ripped away from the land under the sheer force of the inky waves.

‘ _Please Child! Do not let him take you from me! There will be nowhere for your brother to heal if I lose you!’_

Cuphead’s mind snapped to that statement, latched onto it, shoving aside all panic. Inky claws swiped through empty air as the toon leapt to the side, golden eyes burning just as furiously as the red piercing through the wash of black ink on the other. He shifted, hearing the whisper from another Domain, barely audible beyond the wailing cries. A splash of ink hit his leg, only to slide off uselessly, the thing done to him in the well kicking in once more.

He dipped into the shadows, reemerging out of the shade on a light post, nimbly swinging up at an arc, shifting his weight as he came back down to soar past reaching hands, straight up into the building Bendy had gone into. He hauled the dazed toon up, easily getting Bendy back to his senses simply by stating “Henry’s down, get him a potion.” Adoration for his creator crunching down on dazed and confused souls like chips, and Bendy was gone. Diving out of the hole his body had made, he shot past Jendy, slipping on the ink to get to Henry.

Cuphead whistled, keeping Jendy’s focus on him. He didn’t speak, simply stuck his tongue out and threw himself out of the way of the lightning fast tendrils of ink. Zipping through the hall, evading the ink, he burst down the stairs, and fell into the shadows just in time to avoid having his head crushed into the wall by ever so eager claws. He cursed, old language spilling out as he shouted Jendy’s name after reappearing on Isle Two. Jendy, taking a page from him, snapped ahold of his leg from the ink, throwing him as hard as he could at the grand white tower. Cuphead’s left arm snapped off on impact, but the rest of him slammed back into the shadows, avoiding any more damage. Jendy crushed the arm to powder under his heel, snarling.

Bendy hauled Henry up after forcing the potion through grit teeth. As quietly as possible, he moved, stopping any time Henry let out a pained noise. Two potions more, and Henry was swiftly following Bendy as the shadows whispered to them, urging them to the bridge before it was eaten by the ink now tearing down the scrapyard and dragging buildings closest to the shore into the waters.

Cuphead grimaced, shadows slipping up over the break, stemming the flow of soul liquid as he sprint over icy sand where the pyramid used to be. Jendy slid far too much on the ice to get any true gain on the distance between them, but he didn’t stop. Kicking off one of the broken walls, Cuphead leapt up. Springing off an awning that was torn out from below him too late to affect his jump, he landed on the roof, and lunged for the metal from the Ferris wheel and roller coaster. Jendy tore his way through the metal, throwing it to the side, away from him and his pursuit of vengeance.  

Bendy and Henry got across the bridge, narrowly avoiding the water as it grabbed the white stones, and seemingly ate them, ripping through the supports, dropping it into the greedy black void below. The barrier before them shuddered, as if debating with itself, then the two were dragged in by hands unseen by either of them.

Cuphead lost purchase just as he was aiming to springboard off one of the chairs and onto Isle One. He rolled, avoiding the fist slamming down where his chest had been. Flipping onto his feet, he was promptly knocked back off them by heavy blow that sent cracks spidering down his abdomen and legs. He toppled over, sliding a good distance until he hit what remained of the mausoleum. The waters rose further up the walls of the barrier, crashing back down. Heaving, Cuphead struggled to get his legs back under him, only to feel one crack entirely off by a stomp he couldn’t avoid. Jendy towered over him, seething to the point the ink shimmered like the air above a fire.

But before his head could be turned to a powder like his leg, fire from the pits of Hell erupted around him, sending Jendy staggering back with a rage-filled roar. Cuphead blinked, and he was haphazardly sprawled across a slot machine.

Outside, Jendy froze, listening intently for the slightest noise to give away where the current source of his ire had gone. When none came, he stomped, uncaring of the great wave of ink rising up around him, shrieking angrily as he was taken by the ink, placed back on the Light house, the one thing left untouched by the ink.

An angry shriek fell into a bitter howl, then fell into a mournful wail. Ink slid from shaking shoulders, and the small form of Jendy staggered into the building, tears doing more to blind him than ink from his brow.

“ _Give him back! Give my Doll back! I’ll be good… I’ll be good.”_ He sobbed, voice hitching, chest heaving. He collapsed, falling into the pile of pillows where his Doll had last been.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead groaned, wincing at the cacophony of glass grinding as he shifted as best he could, Domain practically frothing to heal what it could. An angry roar caught his attention before the dust spilling from the empty pant leg could. Turning, he shrieked as the beastly form of the Devil tore out of the side room he’d always come out of, shredding the carpet with heavy clawed paws to get to him.

“Don’t!” He cried, immediately trying to throw himself off the slot machines. Powerful claws shredded the machine above him, missing his head by a breath. “Devil please!” Cuphead shouted, dragging his still cracked lower half under the machine as best he could. The heavy weight of the beastly deity shook the ground as he stomped and tore the machine clear off the ground, throwing it down to the tracks below.

The beast reached for him, growls spilling from heavily fanged teeth, drool that scorched the ground where it hit sliding down the yellowed fangs.

A small noise, like a tapping, locked Devil in place. Hateful eyes slowly blinked, the head in his hands slipping out of a lax grip. Two bangs, sounding like someone banging their fist on the ground, had him turn. Cuphead could make out pieces of violet from that area, and through heavy breaths and tears he scrambled to wipe away, he finally caught sight of the fallen form of the luck god. Devil rumbled lowly, and though Cuphead didn’t hear anything, Devil must have, because he prowled over to the entrance to the casino, peered out, growled once, and calmly paced his way back to the fallen form where he stood as the deities who’d remained outside finally entered now that permission had been given.

Bon Bon gave out a choked wail at the sight of Cuphead, throwing herself across the distance to crash down beside him. Chalice hissed sympathetically, but didn’t go further into the room, choosing to stay by the entrance. Elder Kettle hurried over as fast as his body would carry him, already digging in his Domain for any repair potions. Henry carried Bendy, flopping down across from Chalice, refusing to let Bendy any further in, even when the other squirmed to go see Cuphead. The reason was made ever so clear when Devil’s loud rumbling growl drowned out whatever Kahl had been about to say about the ways they could fix Cuphead. Rumor ignored the growl, demurely approaching the fallen luck god, palms up, voice low and soft but respectful.

“Let me see if there’s anything I can do, and if I can’t then we’ll figure something out, but you have to give me a chance Devil.” She implored, gesturing gently to the crumpled purple form. Devil snarled, then huffed when a stained white glove weakly flicked one of his claws. Sparing one last glance full of enough malice to make Bendy faint, he stood aside as Rumor descended on King Dice, scrutinizing the break.

“Auntie,” Cuphead’s voice cracked. “No one told me Domains could hurt us!” His voice hitched, and he was swept into a powerful hug by the woman. She rocked back and forth as he sobbed, his explanation of what had happened disjointed and frail.

“Oh darling, oh my sweet little one.” Bon Bon cooed. “There’s always a reason for their actions.” She soothed, pulling the more stable figure into her lap while the potion, augmented by honey and Domain, worked to repair what it could without the help of its partner.  “Shhhh sweet child, give it some time, don’t despair so.”

Cuphead clung with his remaining arm to her, ignorant of the voices around him. From Cagney talking as best he could to Hell, to Chalice quietly explaining who they were now in the presence of to Henry and Bendy. To Elder Kettle and Kahl trying to figure out whether they’d have to wait for whatever Mugman’s Domain did to fix Cuphead or try to power through the entire loss of Cuphead’s left arm and right leg to see if their own Domains could fix what Cuphead’s couldn’t at its current state.

“I’m insulted you didn’t tell me you had gardens in here Hell. You keep these things alive? What breeds went into getting you palm trees with the water intake ability of a cactus?”

“That thing latched onto him keeps hissing at my Domain! What on earth did my brother drop him into?”

“If its not going to help we have to ignore it, I bet that’ll make it shut up.”

“You’ll be just fine King Dice, we’ll figure out how to get that ink away and before you know it you’ll be antagonizing Cala. Don’t glare at me, I’m trying to be nice while your angry shadow squints at me. Also, don’t ask where Cala is.”

Devil rumbled, pacing back out of the room, back to his tower. The barrier between Hell and Inkwell hummed from the entrance, barely visible from his position on the outside entry to the tower. Scaling the steps swiftly, he prowled into his office. He paused by the couch off to one side, where a small blue and white figure rested. He shifted a hand that had fallen from the cushions back to the side, and watched a couple of imps skitter up the couch leg, glue clutched in tiny clawed hands. They went to work with the pieces sliding weakly out of the shadows, devoid of any ink, heated to the point of steaming off any remaining water.

Devil watched for a few moments, reptilian eyes narrowing on the imps in clear threat, then he moved to stand at the window where he could look down to the casino, and all of Hell.

====-=====-====-====

Jendy paced, shoulders slouched, face devoid of that signature grin, pillow gripped tight to his chest. Several problems presented themselves now, and he had he had no one to bounce ideas off of except the morons floating around in the ink.

‘ _Just for that, any advice I give you is going to be debatable in several ways.’_

It wasn’t something new however, so he rolled with it.

The first problem was no more Doll, not for now at the least. A temporary problem if he and the souls in him had any say in it.

_‘I told him to politely request friendship.’_

_‘Kidnappings the only way!’_

_‘Someone he trusts tell him not to do anything else that’ll get him killed, I don’t want to die with Jeffrey.’_

_‘Should’ve broken the dames legs and chained him t’ the wall.’_

_‘How’d you get out of the shit pit?! How’d he get out of the shit pit!’_

Jendy continued to pace. The first problem was vitally important, but it couldn’t be the only thing he took into consideration. He needed off Inkwell, and thus far, flooding the isles was going well, but wasn’t making the barrier any weaker. He wondered if he had to utterly smother them under the ink to force the dirt to listen to him. It would be a bitch and a half to do, but with the souls of the other gods being dragged in whenever they failed to evade the inky water were helping power him further. Potent though they were, it was only enough to flood the land, not break the barrier. The Domains, whatever those things happened to be, were far too vast to do anything to. Even the magic balked at the idea of trying.

Perhaps that had something to do with the thing in the ocean glowering at him. Or maybe the swirling mass of dark the bird guy had swiftly tearing the arm off a nearby soul, stripping the meat from it, and using the individual bones to nail the teeth out of the next soul to approach with brutal accuracy. Threats from those things, the ink, the magic, and _the thing_ all took to mind. Though it didn’t stop them from shredding into their ‘children’, they also didn’t stop the things from healing their ‘children’.

None of them knew what it took to break the barrier. Or rather, the most insulting part was one of them saying it was broken last time by his Doll being cute…and the dirt being spiteful apparently, but Jendy got the very distinct impression if he tried being adorable the land would go out of its way to ignore the pain the ink was dishing out just to make a tree fall on him.

Which, all things considered, was fair.

_‘Naw, you should try it, can’t knock it til you do!’_

_‘You just told him your advice would be debatable.’_

_‘You know what else worked that I said? Complimenting Mugman, Bendy not being a smear on numerous walls can attest to that. So anyway, you should try complimenting the dirt’_

_‘Say its got great stones.’_

_‘Don’t say that! Do not say that! What the fuck is wrong with you Jeffrey?!’_

He needed off Inkwell, he needed that barrier broken so when he found Doll he could sweep him off his feet and carry him off into the sunset.

_‘Delusions are a wonderfully magical thing.’_

_‘That’d be sweet if it wasn’t only because Lou told you that’s what buddies do. Lou was lying by the way.’_

_‘You had shitty friends! I wasn’t lying you motherfucker!’_

_‘I think the next time you see him he’s going to be practicing how to skin an ink demon.’_

_‘Did you hear the insults he threw out at Steve? Creative little shit.’_

_‘Is anyone else glad the overarching voice here isn’t the old guy?’_

_‘I sort of miss him.’_

_‘Jeffrey you fucking waste of effort.’_

Jendy heaved a grand sigh, debating whether he should relegate his time figuring out how to shut souls up beyond just asking the ink to, or waiting for it to catch on that he was getting annoyed, and it could, in fact, shut those ones up.

Then again, he could also just do that later, and instead focus on the two major goals that almost insultingly hadn’t really changed from when he’d first gotten to Inkwell beyond the ‘explore and see what’s available’ goal that he’d ticked off a while ago. The souls, while annoying, were also what had kept him sane when Drew wasn’t screaming over all of them. Thoughts of Drew reoriented his goal list, making ‘do everything to never go back to the studio even if you gotta embarrass yourself’, top of the thing. Then, get off Inkwell.

Because if he didn’t escape, he’d be stuck going back and forth between having Doll at his side, and not, he just knew it. Then again, if his Doll had done it before, there was nothing saying he couldn’t do it again. Memories of the scolding glares, the disappointed sighs, and the burst of fire that had shredded through the ink after he’d dumped Boris’ head in front of Doll however informed him he had a _very_ finite amount of time to test things before he simply had to make getting Doll back top priority.

Carrying the pillow with him, he exited the lighthouse onto the balcony, looking down upon the tops of buildings still above the waterline on Isle one. Humming, he cleared a throat he didn’t have, and went for broke. He shifted to the cute on-model face, gave a big ol’ grin, and spoke.

“Hey, so, we got off to a bad start…but I was just thinking it would be real swell of ya t’ get rid of that barrier.”

His answer was a brick to the face thrown all the way from Isle Two.

It was only because he fell over that he evaded the support beam turned javelin. He laid on the ground, and wheezed.

A few souls within laughed.

====-====-====-====

With little else to do other than listen to Cagney’s consistent updates on the horrific state of Inkwell, try their best to figure out the limb situation after no amount of honey or magic fixed them, and tense immensely when Devil paced back in to take everything in, everyone wasn’t in a happy state of mind. Cuphead just listlessly stared at his shadow, having long since tuned out Bon Bon despite her best attempts to soothe him.

Kahl had a pained look on his face upon hearing how Werner’s house was the most recent victim of Isle Three’s flood, and had simply gone to the smoker’s room to sit in the weak haze and stare at the carpet. Bon Bon had commandeered the kitchens, getting Cagney to get her various ingredients as she strove to make something for the human to eat, hopeful to lift the spirits of even one person. Earlier, she’d gone through various ideas of ink spine soup with him, but tense as he was about Devil, the smile rarely lasted. Chalice simply observed the outside, waiting for the inevitable. She’d had to lift her portals up to ensure the ink didn’t pour into them and flood her Domain while still keeping Hott away from the worst of it.

She had little hope it would amount to much in the long run, but that little hope kept her from just letting him fall into the ocean for a quick merge with the ink. Bendy sat quietly on Henry’s lap, jolting when something in the casino made a noise. Earlier he’d wondered about the logistics of getting the ink in the casino to back off, only for Devil to almost materialize, roar at him so powerfully bones he didn’t have shook, and knock that idea clear out the window. Any time he got to thinking about the ink, the beast would appear and either stare him down or make noise. The last time he’d done it, the thing had outright charged at him, stopping inches away. Even Chalice behind them had screamed in horror. Once again, it had been the one on the floor to stop the beast from tearing him away from Henry, or just crushing them both at once.

Though, he got the distinct impression the guy had only done it for his own reasons, rather than to be nice. No one was doing much of anything beyond just struggling to do what they could, what they knew best. Most hoped Hell calling them in was a sign it knew it was a safe haven. Some believed it was because Inkwell had begged Hell. None were sure, especially whether caring about it was even a wise idea. For the most part however, the casino was rather quiet aside from the dripping of ink or water, and the usual sounds living made when moving around a place.

Rumor tried talking to Devil a few times, but the most he’d done is growl at her, look down at King Dice, growl at her again, and leave. Even when she’d offered to try and get the ink off him, he’d simply growled and walked away. She got the distinct impression he was more aggravated _the game_ they played had been interrupted by some schmuck from another world than having more gods invade his home. Eventually, feeling suffocated, Cuphead did what he’d grown accustomed to doing. He fell into the shadows, and for the first time since getting to the casino, his Domain didn’t stop him.

He hadn’t expected to stumble over a piece of rubble however, and crashed into the water, impact softened just enough to send a small jolt only through him. Confused, he turned and picked the piece up, turning it this way and that, observing it. His eyes, focused on it, slowly started to recognize symbols and the color of the thing. Then they shifted up, and there was half a disk from the scales, sticking out of the water, glistening dully in the light given off by the gold. Dull red eyes took in the crumbled structure, a new wave of tears starting down his cheeks.

A soft sleeve brushed them away, he blinked, and the thick, watery robes of his Domain blocked his view of the thing, animal skull staring down at him with a lone gold eye. It knelt down, and he obeyed, crawling into the offered lap, pressing deep into the golden fur of his Domain’s chest. A lions tail wrapped around him, a crocodile tail swayed gently in the water behind them.

“You didn’t tell me he could do that.”

‘ _None of us want to.’_

“Then how come he did?”

_‘Retribution would not survive the cleansing. The ink was far too ingrained in your brother’s soul liquid. It would have created far more ink than whatever fire remained in Scale could burn.’_

“Why didn’t he do it earlier then?”

_‘We do not like hurting you. You are our children, our precious children who we protect above all others. Would you have crushed his head had you known it to help?’_

“No!” Cuphead reared back, empty sockets observed him. Nervously, he grabbed a fistful of the fur, and eased himself into a more comfortable position, his Domain allowing it patiently. “I don’t know…” He eventually finished.

‘ _Scale is grieving not the death of a child, but the knowledge a hand had to be raised in aggression towards a child.’_

“About that, that thing and I are gonna have a long conversation about _several_ things.”

_‘I wish you luck in that endeavor, but regret to tell you Scale will do little else other than toy with you based on your recent actions. It would best to wait.’_

“Is Mugs okay?” The tiny little question, fragile in nature, brought a rumble through the chest of the Domain, and little else. Cuphead just shifted further into the fur. He’d leave Retribution eventually, unable to stay too long before he got too antsy about knowing what was going on in the outside world, but for now, it was nice, and no one else could hear his cries start up again.

====-====-====-====

Barriers were annoying, Jendy decided. So was dirt with suspiciously good aim. The wall above him looked like it had seen war, pockmarked all over the area with everything and anything Inkwell could find small enough to throw. He’d used the ink to scour every surface, and found no trace of them, meaning they were tucked away in that damn cave. Where, of course, another barrier sat, blocking his entrance. The train behind him falling through the portals was entertaining for about a few minutes before he’d ultimately gotten bored and shifted the ink, inching it closer to the portals. Hilariously enough, the portal moved when he got too close. Hilarious in that Jendy was actually just leaning against the rock face nudging the portal around.

It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, having devoured all land aside from the mountain range and a few places, like the top of the tower, the observatory, and the little plateau he sat on. All souls within, dragged around and battered for answers by the worst he had collected, had little useful to say. But the plus side was he’d gotten a bunch of new insults to use, in multiple languages! It was the little things like that and watching the train float around from his ink that kept him from getting angry again and going on a rampage.

‘ _Did anyone teach this guy about terminal velocity?’_

_‘What exactly would that accomplish?’_

_‘Well I was just thinking how funny it would be to put that thing through one of our portals, and see if we can’t see a train hit solid rock at top speed!’_

_‘Jeffrey? Riddle me this, what the hell would that accomplish?’_

_‘It’d be entertaining.’_

_‘Only to people with the mental capacity of a kitchen sponge.’_

_‘Wasn’t there a town that’s sole purpose was to be the spot where two trains collided?’_

_‘Yeah, whole lot of destruction, the steam engines blew.’_

_‘Isn’t that thing a steam train?’_

Jendy hummed, drawing the ink up further, nudging the portals down lower.

_‘You’re both idiots.’_

_‘Idiots we’re going to die with.’_

_‘ **Fuck.’**_

Once the train was close enough, his ink shot out above the portal, catching the train mid fall, and its face went right in. With a little maneuvering, he had the train running a circuit in his own portals, and gleefully let himself be entertained by that for a good few minutes.

====-====-====-====

Devils chest rumbled as his tail lashed, crushing stone near the couch after an imp grew clumsy with a piece. It whined pitifully, slinking off with glue covered hands, feet sticking to the floor with every step. Another one took its place, and the place of the other, more diligent one. A shadowy cat rested on the tiny chest, peering at the progress, eyes glowing as cracks stuck with glue sealed shut under magic strained by two children in dire need of repair.

It hadn’t looked away ever since appearing, and would make periodic cooing noises, purring softly with every piece properly glued in place. Hell heaved out in the distance, hazy red aura swirling with discontent. Devil’s eyes narrowed; the cat hissed.

‘ _Please, just a little longer, please…’_

Devil rumbled; the hounds far below howled. Down in the casino, a purple suit shifted, a hand weakly turned to point to the entrance. Rumor paused mid story, turning in confusion towards the direction. Bon Bon, ears tuned to the slightest noise in hopes she’d hear her boy come back so she could show off the raspberry cherry tart she’d scrounged together, heard Rumors voice stop, and focused on what the goddess had.

====-====-====-====

Giggling to himself, the portals slowly angled themselves without letting the train’s velocity drop, even pressing it faster any time it was within the ink, forcing more and more speed into it. Even if all he got was a big old explosion, it would be leagues better than moping and doing nothing.

Once he’d figured enough speed was built up, he waved off one, and the train shot straight out of the other. Unfortunately for them, his aim had been off, and instead of the rock face, the train hit the barrier.

Fortunately for him, the train shattered the barrier.

Death lamented ever coming to a new agreement about Hott having total access to Hell to prevent another possession.

Hell wheezed.

====-====-====-====

There was a great crash, Chalice perked up, and what sounded like ‘motherfucker’ erupted from around them, voiced by no one they knew. Then Hott was slamming into the casino, bashing through the wall near the door, narrowly missing the quartet at the door and going right through the back walls into whatever made for the back rooms in the casino. Cuphead reappeared from the shadows, a stunned look on his face as the train whistled in the distance, being slowly guided into a loop by Hell as it rearranged itself further in after the panic of losing the barrier cleared it and the need to keep the gross ink as much in one place as possible devoured the panic.

Ink flooded in, spilling down the slope, forcing Bon Bon away and up to the bar. Rumor grabbed what she could of King Dice and flew up, wings working furiously.

Henry was hauled up by Bendy, and dragged further in by a strange robotic arm Kahl extended out to pull them over to him. Cuphead scampered up further onto the slot machines, wincing when the shadows had to pluck him up and drop him on top of the machines.

Jendy’s head darted in as he looked at the gaping hole in the wall, then around, appearing just as surprised as everyone else.

“Neat!” He chirped, stepping into the building.

A hot breath washed across his back.

He drooped.

“Ahhhh shi—” One heavy swing, and Jendy learned how Henry and Bendy felt when he’d knocked them away. Wheezing, he dove into the ink to avoid a wave of hellfire. The stuff did little other than sting, but even that, he wanted to avoid. Scrabbling back out, he managed to grab the thrashing tail, and promptly lost his arm as a hound entirely unnatural bit it off with at least three rows of teeth in an unhinged mouth. Once more dipping into the ink. He reappeared by the bar, hardly sparing the woman a glance as his ink continued to flood, staining the carpet.

Devil’s roar echoed, piercing and enraged, answered by thousands of howls from outside the building. Jendy scampered to avoid the attacks, mystified at how the ink did little to the thing other than make it angry. The hellfire dancing across his body, casting him in an unholy glow must have had something to do with it, but what that was, he had no idea. What he _did_ know, was that slot machines tasted like really nasty oil, and the ink was getting good at fixing him quickly.

“Is this because I broke the purple guys face?!” He screeched, diving and rolling away from another swing. The beast snarled, brilliant red gaze burning like the hellfire that surrounded him. Jendy pulled from the souls within him, the power boost making him move faster, enough to finally match the beast. Bon Bon shrieked as the ink grabbed her, having crawled up the bar to reach her. It had already gone about devouring the many souls on the ground and scattered about, basking in the knowledge that it could. Elder Kettle slipped on a billiard ball, and went down into the ink.

“Oh joy, round two.” Cagney intoned, arms crossed as he sank into the ink. “Oh boy, it got worse! Gosh, there are all my wishes granted! You got Djimmi nearby or something?” The dispassionate way he spoke wasn’t hindered in the least by the ink after it reached his face. Rumor wailed, torn between saving him and keeping King Dice away from the ink. Ultimately, she found rafters untainted by ink to place him on, and shot down, crashing into Jendy with near as much force as Hott had hit the casino.

Jendy hissed, ink darting out to wrap around her wings and tear them off. Devil’s next swipe sent him clear over the balcony, down to the race track below, and he squealed the whole time, even as Rumor was dragged in, and Kahl, not wanting to go out like a pansy, and eager to see what destruction he could cause within the ink, dove in with a shout of “For science!”

The ink promptly moved him as far from his sibling as it possibly could.

Henry jolted when the Gatling gun spilled out of a shadow near him. Cuphead nodded to him, and the human and gun both were dropped into the shadows, deposited on the rafters. Taking the hint, he opened fire, acting as some form of back up while Cuphead tried to figure out what he could do, unbalanced as he was and vulnerable as he was. Devil was doing a grand job, but Jendy was only getting faster, stronger, actually leaving wounds on Devil rather than just being treated like punching bag. Bendy tried being useful as well, but the one time he tried leaping onto Jendy, he’d been slammed into the wall so hard he went through, and hadn’t reappeared from the hole since then.

====-====-=====-====

In the tower, five imps hastily glued together piece after piece, glancing at the cat every time just to be sure they weren’t putting something in the wrong spot. Mostly because the last time one had, it had been eaten by the feline, and nothing but a single piece of horn and tuft of fur had been coughed out by a _very hostile cat._ The battle below shook the building, but the shadows kept the couch steady.

They worked furiously, even more so as crystal clear soul liquid began to fill the bottom. Imps surrounded them, leaping in to help when one started to fumble with too much glue covering tiny hands.

====-====-====-====

One Domain caught the sudden cessation of wails immediately and grew tense. There was almost no time, the shadows having to haul Cuphead around to keep him and Henry out of Jendy’s grasp. Jendy finally managed to grab Devil, throwing him up at Henry, and lunging for Cuphead on one of the rook pillars. Bendy intercepted him, the two crashing to the floor with a great splash and impressive insults from Jendy. Devil shook the daze out of his eyes, and the rubble out of his fur.

“I’m just trying t’ pick somethin’ up!” Jendy shouted, punching Bendy hard enough to send the other’s head reeling back.

“He isn’t taking visitors” Henry snapped, letting loose another hailstorm of bullets, forcing Jendy away from Bendy. Devil descended in a blaze of enraged hellfire, and Jendy couldn’t focus on quips or anything other than surviving the beast.  The ink spilled further out into Hell, eager tendrils reaching for whatever it could even as the ground shifted, intent to keep it out as much as possible.

Henry leapt down onto one of the taller pillars, then to a balcony, unleashing more bullets once he was behind the railing. Cuphead tried not to slide, not until Jendy swept the pillar out from under him and he toppled back into the shadows, Devil was once more knocked away.

Unlike before, Devil was sent through the hole Hott had left, and tumbled off the edge of the cliff. Bendy shouted in panic, now the one being chased by an all to vindictive Jendy.

“Y’know it occurs t’ me if I just murder the tar outta you bastards, it’d be a hell of a lot easier t’ get time t’ figure out how t’ escape this damn place.”

“There were several puns there!” Henry shouted, “And none of them were creative!” The gatling gun shredded one of Jendy’s arms, something fixed by a quick dip. Bendy intercepted him before he could hit Henry upon reemerging. Cuphead dangled off the balcony, shadows too harried to drop him properly. Bendy was once more crushed to the floor, letting out a weak cry of pain. Henry lost yet another gun after being too slow, and it was only because he was by the stairs that he managed to avoid the blow, sprinting up the stairs.

Cuphead dropped, falling into the shadows with Henry, being spit back out on the only remaining table not slathered in ink. Henry shifted so he was in front of Cuphead, as a last-ditch effort to protect the already broken toon.

====-====-====-====

A tail softly swished with contentment. The shadowy cat purred brightly with satisfaction, ears swiveled to the battle, eyes alight. Slowly, bright blue eyes fluttered open behind lashes mildly stained by flakes of glue. A weak hand brushed the rest of the glue off, and the two eyes locked on to one another.

‘ _He has not learned.’_

The Domain’s child arched a brow, groggy, but growing more and more aware of what was going on and had gone on.

_‘He is about to take our Feather from us. He has already devoured the other gods. Shall we?’_

Blue eyes narrowed, ice frosting across the couch, sending little imps scampering away. The final memories slid into place; a spark bloomed; then.

====-====-====-===

Jendy grinned down at them, knowledge of his impending total victory bringing a cheery glow to his face.

“I feel like pulling an Alice and debating what I can do to yer bones. What’s this I heard about spine recipes?” He teased, ink lazily crawling up the table, quite content to let Jendy gloat. Henry just scowled.

“Aw come on, nothin fun t’ say? Where’s that good ol’ Henry humor?” The scowl grew. The grin matched it in size and then some. “I’ll be honest, I can’t believe I made the rookie mistake of not just doing this from the get go, old habits die hard!” Jendy shrugged lightly, reducing his form down to the sharper version of Bendy. “I wanna say it’s been fun, but frankly if I never heard either of you again it would be too soon.” He lifted a hand, the ink rose.

And a pillar of bright, golden fire erupted from the tower visible thanks to the grand windows on that side of the building. Golden light washed over them, followed by a wave of fire that shredded through the ink coating the floors and walls. Jendy froze, jaw gaping, eyes so wide it looked like it hurt. Both on the table also locked up, Cuphead fearfully turned to look at the pillar, then turned a horrified gaze to Jendy.

Jendy put his hands behind his back, cleared a non-existent throat, and as nobly as he could, said “Gentlemen, it has been an _honor_ antagonizing you.” Henry nodded, matching the noble tone with a solemn nod of his own.

The fire washed over them once more, like a pulse, and Mugman was before Jendy, arms crossed, eyes glacial, shoe in hand. Jendy shrieked something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Light of my life’ in between the panicked squeal. The shoe tapped an arm, and Jendy petered off into a shaky whimper. He tugged on his bowtie.

“H-has anyone ever told you th-that despite being terrifying an’ angry yer somehow also adorably gorgeous?”

‘ _I told you fuckers to get him to do shit that wouldn’t get us killed!’_

_‘Say impending death at his hands is the most wonderful blessing you could ever receive.’_

_‘Shut up!’_

_‘See if you can smack another hand print over him!’_

_‘Jeffrey why the fuck do I have to die with you?’_

_“_ I’ve never been this mad before, so no.” Mugman’s tone was just above absolute zero, frost spilling over the puddles of ink not scorched away.

“Well I thi—“The shoe went across his face, and Mugman fell into a scolding rant so full of vitriol and rage the two behind him shrunk away out of instinct. Most of it was in the language only Cuphead understood, and if it hadn’t been for the fear he felt just by proxy of never seeing his brother so enraged before, he’d be cracking his chest with laughter.

“ _And whatever pair of braincells you squeak together led you to the worlds most horrifically terrible decisions! One after another! What the hell is wrong with you! If you and Bendy were out there, he’d have to warn the neighbors about you every time you moved. There’d be a police escort following you at all times so they could remove you from that plane of existence at the hint of another incident! Natural disaster sirens would go off every time you so much as stepped out the door”_ Henry got that much before the language fell in once more. Every once in a while, the toons words were punctuated with a hearty slap from the shoe. Any time Jendy tried to speak he was smacked. Towards the end of the rant, the shoe was tossed back into the shadows and a finger was shoved in Jendy’s face as Mugman drove him to stumble backwards, one hand on hip, eyes a glacial inferno.

Finally, Mugman sucked in a grand breath, pressing the tips of his fingers together, then to his lower lip, closing his eyes as fire poured down his frame, scouring ink from the casino, and from Hell.

“I’m real—”

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Mugman spoke, drowning Jendy out, forcing him to fall silent once more. Jendy strangled his bowtie into near oblivion, head low, eyes downcast. Henry, tired and far too fried to care, got a memory in his head. Leaning closer to Cuphead, and to Bendy who’d managed to get himself over to them somewhere at the minute mark of the rant, he whispered.

“This is like that one time one of the guys was talking a lot of dirt about his wife, and she caught wind of it because he was _right_ outside. Same level of apoplectic rage and everything.”

Mugman, choosing to ignore them, pressed on. “There are four things that _you_ will be doing. The first of which is finding every single soul you swiped from Inkwell, gods and all.” Jendy opened his mouth, about to whine about how difficult finding every soul apart from the ones from the studio would be, only for temperature to drop further around them, just about freezing his teeth together. “Second? Apologizing to each and every one of them. Yes, that _does_ include Henry, Bendy, and my brother. _Especially my brother._ ”

The last sentence was hissed, and if Jendy hadn’t been terrified beyond recognition before, he sure was now. “Third, after I’ve burned out all this ink, you’ll be helping to repair Inkwell. Every building, every ride, down to the bricks, down to the foundations, _all of it._ ” Jendy gave off a weak whine, doleful eyes peering as pathetically as they could at the other.

“Finally, I will be sleeping for the next three days because _someone_ didn’t let me get any rest while either picking _horribly outmatched fights_ or having a _grand old time running around like headless chickens._ ” He twisted just enough to catch his brother’s traumatized red eyes, and had he not been so livid, he’d have found it funny how both Jendy and Cuphead both ducked their heads lower, red and grey blooming across their features. “In that time, you are to be on your _best_ behavior, no picking fights, no getting angry, _and not a single drop of ink better so much as **touch**_ _Inkwell._ Are we clear?”

Jendy nodded, mournful whimper spilling out of his mouth. Mugman’s eyes narrowed and he sharply gestured to a corner.

“Now get in that corner and start thinking and digging.”

“Do I—”

_“Now.”_

To everyone else, it looked like Jendy had warped over to the corner. The corner that gained the title of ‘Shame corner’ courtesy of Hell having a rather brutal sense of humor and having no issue burning the phrase into the wallpaper above the sulking ink demon.

“What do I think about?” Jendy called out, trying to simultaneously keep his head down, his face demure, his eyes in the corner, and all while still attempting to see the blue deity. Fire danced around him, which, considering it wasn’t burning him, scared him more than almost anything else.

“What you did wrong, and how you’ll be apologizing!” Mugman snapped back, frowning up at the rafters. One flash flare later, King Dice, far more pieced together than before, was down and draping himself lazily across one of the not so broken craps tables.

“Could you ask Mr. Devil to watch him while I’m gone?” Mugman asked, pretty doe eyes making King Dice squint. One nod was his answer, and one he was satisfied with. He turned back to the table, and his eyes followed the missing space where an arm and leg used to be on his sibling.

His very traumatized sibling.

“Hey there bestest baby brother in the world!” Cuphead weakly laughed, internally shrieking at the not so pleased disposition on the others face.

“Head into Retribution and let your Domain fix you up, Cuphead. I’ve got to start fixing Inkwell, and after that, I demand no less than three hugs.”

“Oh yeah can do! Absolutely! Easy as—” Cuphead shrieked as he dropped into his own shadow. Mugman gestured for Henry to sit, ignoring Bendy for now, too much on his mind as is. Henry agreed to help with watching “the problem child”, and with that, Mugman turned on his heel, intent to get the great inferno going before he ran out of steam.

“Should’a drowned all of em from the get go.” Jendy muttered as Mugman hit the door. A shoe soared through the air, pristine precision guiding it directly into the back of Jendy’s head. He shouted, sending a doleful pout towards the deity only to immediately turn back to the corner as the shadows behind Mugman condensed, unnerving grin peeling further back over bones and shadowy flesh that shouldn’t have been able to smile like that.

“ _What was that!?”_

“I should have politely requested they give me a chance to explain my case and talked diplomatically!” Jendy screeched. Mugman’s frosty blue eyes narrowed, the shoe returned to his hand, and he was off.

Bendy tugged on Henry’s shirt, keeping Henry between him and King Dice.

“None of you told him the isles are all flooded. What if he just thinks its like how it looked in the beginning?”

Henry got a glazed look in his eyes, King Dice’s mouth stretched into a wide, nasty grin, and Jendy let out a pathetic whine.

When Cuphead came back out, fully repaired, he was greeted with the first ever truly apoplectic shriek he’d ever heard from his brother, and the sight of Jendy being reduced to a simpering mess wheezing constant praise about everything about Mugman down to his shade of blue. He was dragged out by his horn, wailing for Henry to save him. Henry immediately pretended to find something fascinating about his pants.

The entrance to the cave burst into an inferno after Jendy was dropped back, having been forced to apologize to Inkwell first and foremost, and pull in as much ink as he could. The ink, whether out of an act of spite or stupidity, only vaguely obeyed, making the oceans recede, but leaving everything looking like a black hole had thrown up everywhere. Cuphead wisely stayed where he was beside Henry, eventually wandering over to King Dice to poke at anything that looked like ink on the ragged fabric. King Dice’s eye twitched, but he didn’t stop the other, far too tired to do anything other than perch.

====-====-====-====

Cagney was the first to flop out, still shrieking an ungodly cacophony of noises despite only having one mouth. He paused mid shriek, examined the shredded roof of the casino, then turned to King Dice and Devil, the latter who sat _far_ too close to Jendy for Jendy’s comfort, tail flicking with malicious glee.

“…So that was a blast, and you missed out, you really did.”

King Dice arched a brow, already shifting into a new form, carefully figuring out how far his magic was able to go given its current fragile state, and the fact that his and Chance’s Domain were treating them like glass.

“If anything, you missed the little spitfire showing off all the wonderful things Bon Bon and Rumor have been teaching him.” Cagney groaned, going limp.

====-====-====-====

Rumor was next, and after nearly crushing Cagney’s face in her overly enthusiastic hug, she was dragging him off, sending one vitriolic sneer over at Jendy as she left. There was a vow to get revenge in that gaze, but Jendy was disinclined to care, finding nothing as scary as the beast hovering over him, or the beast outside hanging around his Doll…or his Doll, actually.

Grim toppled out, crushing the bar under his weight. Devil gave him a dead stare, one that had Grim nervously fiddling with the tip of his tail and stammering out a question on where Bon Bon was. Cuphead wordlessly pointed to Jendy. Grim bared his teeth at the ink demon, flinching back when Jendy bared his own impressive set back. A low hiss in the shadows had him just about burrowing his head into the corner though.

Cagney popped his head in right about the time the root brothers rolled out.

“Get yer fat ass off me!”

“We don’t have asses!”

“I’m gonna stab both of you if you don’t get off.”

“Hey morons!” Cagney shouted over their arguing. “Isle Three is cleared up! Get out there and get to landscaping!”

“Or what?!”

“Or sis’ll eat you out of spite!”

“Rumor’s out?”

“ _I DON’T SEE TREES ON INKWELL IN THE NEXT FOUR SECONDS **SOMEONE** IS BEING TURNED INTO VEGETABLE SPIRALS.”_ The trio glanced at one another, and shot out, scrabbling to get to the ground where they dove into the dirt and were gone. Grim whined, huffing out balls of fire that a hell hound chased enthusiastically.

Upon word that the oceans were cleared, Cala Maria was heard clear to the mainland, angry beyond recognition even while her brother was smushing himself to her in his best version of a hug. The threats she let out were enough to make even King Dice look a tad green. Devil’s low chuckle was all he reacted with, taking his job of warden with all the joy of a child in a toy shop. Jendy continued to sulk, sending pleading glances over to Bendy and Henry every now and again. His only answer were twin shakes of their heads.

Djimmi spilled out after a few minutes, glowering all while he picked himself up and brushed himself off. Though he would have gone about turning Jendy every color under the sun, Wally giving out a great squawk as he landed on Djimmi was enough to cut the magic short. Stuck to the thick, patchy feathers, Djimmi was dragged out, shouting for Wally to quit it all the while.

“How many of you dingbats were there?” Jendy groused.

“Oh we aren’t the shitty part. The mortals are. At least two hundred souls you have to dig for. Be glad I ain’t askin for the souls you swiped from Hott or Hell.” Devils’ low voice rumbled, shaking Jendy where he sat in a hunched ball. Jendy paled, well aware that number easily exceeded what was living on the Isles. And honestly, the only reason Devil wasn’t was because he couldn’t care less what happened to the souls lost, only the lackeys lost.

“I could see about trying to change his fortune and make it easier.” King Dice spoke, her brows up in a thoughtful manner.  Jendy twisted, a hopeful look on his features. “But then, you ruined my favorite suit.” Jendy whined, whispered an insult only Henry got purely from knowing what ‘looked like a jingle-brained broad in a Chicago overcoat in that thing anyway’ meant.

As each Isle was cleared, more gods, and soon mortals, started to fill the empty remains of streets torn from their foundations. Werner let out a grand wail of agony, falling to his knees before his ruined blueprint storage. His brother pat his back solemnly, shaking his head at the tent fabric offered to him as a hanky by the massive robot. Green burst to life under the coaxing of the nature gods. Denizens came to Rumor to be healed, soon also turning to Elder Kettle to give the Goddess some reprieve.  The ink didn’t necessarily let them go easily, but with the choice between the souls obtained in Hell and from the train, as well as from the mausoleums, and the paltry number on the Isles, it gave them away just a hint more readily.

Grim and Bon Bon were furiously trying to catalogue all who’d been where in what homes. Djimmi was hauling bridges back out from the rivers so they had easier methods of travel for the mortals.

 Wally cleared the skies, shooing away angry clouds. Cala Maria went about dredging up as much as she could underwater to be sure the fire hadn’t missed anything, or the ink hadn’t hidden itself away. The Clip-Joint Calamity was dragged from the drink, already repairing itself much like Brineybeards ship.

By the time all Isles were purified, it was late into the day, the sun lowly hanging in a vivid orange and violet sky. Mortals dropped into whatever offerings of cover the gods could manage to scrounge together, Djimmi’s Domain worn thin, and Bon Bon’s fingers bleeding under her harried time spent doing everything and anything she could think of to make shelter for the mortals. Grim left his own fire to warm the Isles, casting a grand array of colors, all spilling a gentle heat.

Mugman returned to the Casino to find Porkrind leaning against the wall next to the bar, chatting amiably with Martini while he polished a knife quite solidly in the ‘that’s not for cutting fruit or olives, you aren’t fooling anyone’ department. Sally was eagerly chatting with Beppi, dragging Henry and Bendy into her enthusiasm as her brother fed her excitement, tossing ideas out when Sally almost seemed to be settling on one thing.

Cuphead trot over, hopeful that the time spent burning things away would ease his sibling’s wrath, or perhaps angle it better towards Jendy alone. He feared he was wrong however, when both fell into the shadows. Cuphead tensed, light cast from the fully repaired scales spilling eerie shadows through the water. Mugman kept walking towards him until he was directly in front of Cuphead, where he promptly flopped his weight into his brother. Cuphead caught him easily, switching from supporting Mugman’s weight to hugging him as his brother returned the favor with twice the fervor.

“I’m sorry.” Mugman’s voice was small, a far cry from earlier. Cuphead huffed a laugh, tightening the hug just the slightest.

“I shot you, it’s all good.” The red deity replied after a beat of silence.

“It didn’t hurt. They don’t hurt me.” Mugman answered softly, far too exhausted to speak any louder.

“It looked so real.”

“It wasn’t, I promise it wasn’t.” Mugman shifted so he could look past his brother’s arm into the water. “You’d never do that.” His voice lilted, a coo that was answered by twin rumbles. “See?”

“Yeah.” Cuphead flopped down, taking Mugman with him, not letting go at all, basking in the presence he’d missed so dearly. They stayed like that, quietly talking, for another five minutes, reorienting themselves before they’d eventually leave Retribution.

“You’re sitting with Rumor and listening to battle strategies.”

“You’re never slackin’ on a sibling scuffle ever again.”

“Hmm.”

Filling each other in, mindful of the Domain’s below, monitoring the outside for the best time to reappear. Four minutes in, and Jendy was getting restless, having dug out most of the souls as best he could.

He squealed when Mugman reappeared right next to him, arms crossed, frown plain on porcelain features. Letting out a strained, nervous chuckle, he peered up, hunched further in, and tried to look as small and apologetic as possible.

Mugman simply gazed down on him, cool blue features unreadable aside from an edge of disappointment.

“I-I haven’t quite gotten all of em—”

“If they don’t want to leave, then don’t bother.”

“How’d you…” Jendy petered off, swallowing audibly as the other arched his brows.

“There are other things to be focusing on.”

“Like how to get a door to that studio open, and how to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.” Elder Kettle said, more bitter than the coffee Henry clutched in his hands like a lifeline.

“The studio?” Bendy spoke up, withering under the sharp stare from numerous gods.

“Well you sure aren’t staying, that’s for sure.” Chalice, though not blatantly hostile, wasn’t exactly nice. Most likely because she was patting her whimpering brother’s side, murmuring to Hott when he started to stir from his slumber. “Who knows when something from that abominable mess of souls will start a fuss again.”

“Back to Drew?” Jendy’s voice cracked under the weight of his horror. When both Chalice and Elder Kettle nodded, he wailed, diving to wrap his arms around Mugman ‘s waist, the blue toon squeaked in surprise, a burst of fire puffing out into the air, but doing nothing to stop Jendy from groveling.

“Don’t send me back there! I’m beggin’ ya, Doll! That’s a fate worse than death! Please! Please, I’ll do anything! I’ll play nice, I’ll stop calling that jackass with the cane rust-pot! I’ll tell yer brother he’s the snazziest thing since sliced bread! I’ll even stop antagonizing Henry and the weenie! I’ll stop calling Bendy a weenie! Please!” He sniffled; face crumpled in desperate misery. “Have mercy on me, Doll!”

Mugman, through it all, got a sort of glint in his eye. The ink spot on Henry’s sleeve started to let out a tiny, near inaudible scream. Elder Kettle bloomed a bright copper in indignation, Cuphead wheezed.

“Anything hmm?”

“Whatever ya want! I’m beggin ya! Don’t make me listen to that deranged one-man loony bin!” Mugman shifted his weight, a smile that matched King Dices’ playing across his features.

The tiny ink spot screamed louder.

The shadow under Mugman shifted, rolled, whispers from the depths slithering out, never in a language any could understand. Flickering golden eyes examined pleading pie-cut black ones.

“Aunt Sally?”

“Whoo! Aunt status!” Sally cheered, throwing her fists into the air, bouncing forward with a pep in her step, like she knew something was about to fall into her favor.

“Your theaters already got a hold on a few of the souls, correct?”

“Pfft, anything that ink has, it got. I got some snazzy film guy showing off neat cartoons to the kids.”

“Wonderful!” Mugman clapped his hands together. “I’ll have to keep him just a bit longer, if you’ll forgive me.” Sally nodded eagerly. King Dice took a hearty drink of wine from the glass he’d luckily found not too long ago, hiding the proud gleam in his eye as best he could.

“Clean him up nice kiddo, I’ve got plenty of time.” She grinned back.

====-====-====-====

As it turned out, by ‘clean up’ she meant ‘burn the unwanted bits out’. After Jendy had just about crunched Mugman’s waist in with the force of his overly bombastic hug, he’d been tapped where his nose would have been by a playful blue deity.

“Don’t be thanking me yet dear. There’s still a few things you’ve got to do, and one thing I didn’t tell you about.” The darkly sweet smile sent Bendy scampering up Henry’s shirt, hissing how he was seeing Jendy’s life flash before his eyes again. “Few of the others are all too happy with you, what with the mess you’ve left of Inkwell. Oh and just listen to Hell, poor thing had to be cleaned!”

Hell dutifully let out a croon, making Devil snort so hard his fur puffed out.

“Even if I just left you to Sally in the meantime as we try to figure out what to do about Henry’s situation, they’d be hard pressed to do anything other than use you as a battering ram to clear the rubble away. But don’t you worry,” Mugman caught Jendy’s cheeks in his cool hands, having to twist and lean a bit due to Jendy still being on his knees, attached to Mugman. The gold in his eyes burned brighter, the temperature in the room sharply spiked.

“ _I’ve got just the thing to take some of that weight off.”_

“Oh this is gonna hurt…ain’t it.” Jendy weakly squeaked out, mushy in the deceptively kind grip.

“Yes.” Mugman gave him two sympathetic pats.

As he erupted into an inferno, Bon Bon sprint off to the kitchen, screaming for the location of the marshmallows. Jendy writhed, his grip increasing on Mugman until Cuphead tore his arms off, and the ink demon fell into the shadows, surrounded by fire that turned the dark waters into a golden blaze, keeping whatever ink tried to escape in, and far from the waters below.

====-====-====-====

“I am _not next_.” Bendy spoke after a moment of silence. Twin golden eyes glanced his way, and he clung tighter to Henry. He wagged one finger at Cuphead. “You already got my creator to throw me at a freakin’ roof! Did he tell you he did that! I feel like I’ve suffered enough!”

Sally slammed her hands down on the desk.

“Speaking of that! Your form in that last dance was _abysmal._ Kinda Dancing Demon don’t know how to do a good foxtrot! You utter disgrace!”

“He’s a what?” Devil deadpanned. King Dice snorted, covering her face with a long sleeve.

“If you think for one measly second I ain’t tossin you at Beppi until you can do everything from the Samba to the Waltz, you’re _sadly mistaken._ ” She leaned right in his face, ignoring the affronted teeth he bared at her in reflex. Beppi cackled.

“I got plans you munchkin. _Several plans.”_

“The Hell did you call that pipsqueak?” Devil spoke, the epitome of deadpan now. Henry stared him dead in the eye.

“Bendy the Dancing Demon, or Bendy the Devil Darling.” Devil reared back, mouth twisted in utter disdain.

“Nowhere is safe!” Bendy wailed from his perch on Henry’s shoulders.

====-====-====-====

When Jendy came back out a day later, he emerged at Mugman’s side, with Cuphead right beside him on his other side, looking surprisingly intimidating for someone a bit shorter than Jendy. Mugman spared him a glance, and continued trying to soothe the abrasive deities far from happy the studio gang weren’t already gone.

He hacked out a puff of smoke, gave out a great heave, cleared his non-existent throat, and “Gimme a hammer an’ let’s get this trash heap lookin’ _ritzy_ again.”

Cagney closed his eyes, fist pressed to his mouth, tight breath sucked in. _“Fuck he’s good.”_

“Did he call Inkwell a trash heap?”

“Ollie no, he called it ritzy, weren’t you listening?”

“I was too busy wondering whether acid can eat away ink.”

“Not on the grass I just fuckin finished growing you sack of bricks!”

====-====-====-====

Apologies were weird. The mortals, especially ones from the time of the Corruption, just asked if he’d been judged, and upon receiving a sunny smile, gave a tired nod, and moved on.  Even more so when Mugman was in Retribution sleeping for a majority of them. Jendy was far more inclined to be abrasively passive aggressively honest without the thing in the shadows looming over him. Porkrind refused to do anything other than glower at Jendy, even when he was shaking—crushing really—Jendy’s hand as a show of forgiveness. Other mortals refused; bitter their relatives seemingly didn’t want to leave or simply because they felt no apology could match what had been done to them.

“Hell if I know why!”

‘ _There’s a boxing ring in here now!’_

_‘Oh hey, pool tables! Neat!’_

_‘I was at deaths door anyway, shits entertaining in here, and my fear of trains ain’t making me any more eager to hop ship.’_

_‘Someone get him to eat a god of television or something!’_

“I already tried everythin’, ain’t my fault yer just mad they didn’t tell you where the twenty large they got hidden away is before I ate all of you.”

“Jendy,” Mugman scolded, “play nice.”

“Yes Dear.”

====-====-====-====

The gods varied. Some, like Elder Kettle, strove to find the tear that would open up a gate to the studio. Others, like Sally, threatened anyone who spoke of taking one of her new actors away before she could put on Beauty and the Beast.

“Originally I was going to have King Dice and Devil, but King Dice refused to put on the beast costume, and Devil kept tearing the outfits for Beauty, _fuckers._ ”

“I told you teal wasn’t my color you wench!”

“Teal was just the accent you furry jackass!”

“I told you this is why I kept up the creepy juggernaut image! This is the exact reason!”

“I think you’d look lovely in magenta Mr. Devil.”

“Keep this up and mortals are going to start thinking he’s a pushover.”

“Don’t say that! He’ll do something weird to prove he’s no… And he ate a squirrel…okay.”

====-====-====-====

Isle One was the first to be fully repaired. Isle Two and three took longer, with most of the magic users focused on figuring out just what would happen if they did, in fact, open up a portal. Their biggest drive aside from not having to see Jendy follow Mugman around like a lost puppy and Bendy’s constant attempts to escape ‘the deranged clown’, was Henry.

But even Henry wasn’t sure what could be done. His outside family was either dead or already scattered for however many years it took for someone to pick the Stein meeting spot without Aunt Linda there. He himself was dead, there was no one to return to, no one to strive for. Chalice had no answers for him, unable to so much as touch the ink without either ink demon reacting violently, and not even by their accord. Jendy had even taken to melting into a puddle and hiding in Mugman’s shadow any time she was around, ignoring the murderous stare from Cuphead and the tired sigh from Mugman.

Henry wandered, most often with Bon Bon, who was best suited for getting his mind sorted on whether he would feel more at home in one place or the other. On one hand, he feared what the state of the studio was, and the state of Joey. Not out of worry for either, but worry for the damage both could do. Neither ink demon could tell him what it looked like either, or what would happen when opening up the portal.

“One thing’s for sure, I ain’t losing my fucking actors. That Alice lady is a shining beacon of sass that I _will_ stab a wench to keep. And if you think I’m losing a musician you are out your damn minds!”

“You can stand to lose a dancer though?” Chalice prodded, jerking a thumb at Bendy.

“He’s more a present for my new nephews… One of them at least. I got a neat new weapon in the making for the other. Got Kahl and Werner helping and everything!”

“I hope it’s a bazooka that shoots giant acorns at people.” Cuphead whispered to his brother. Mugman made a noise of interest, eyes sparkling.

====-====-====-====

Isle One was cleared of all mortals, grand walls of stone barricaded it from the rest in the off chance something else crawled out of the portal. Upon learning the biggest key to getting a portal open was Hell and Inkwell sending out a call, all turned on the nature deities and Devil, promptly remembered exactly how easily Devil could break solid steel in one hand, and went to glaring solely at the nature deities. Many whom simply gave great big shrugs and “Inkwell just kept telling us what it wanted where, if you think a portal supersedes a petunia patch in Inkwells mind, you’re idiots.”

Jendy clung tightly to Mugman, something he was only able to do after proving nothing he tried got through the fire from the ever-vigilant Domain, though many suspected he didn’t actually try that hard. Bendy stuck closer to Henry who stood with Alice, Allison, Norman, Sammy, and Tom. They’d been speaking for a good day now, with Henry choosing to stay in the theater for the four days it took to clear up Inkwell and get the Isles fixed up and pretty.

They’d been talking about the many caveats, and much like the gods, were hard-pressed to come to an agreement. It wasn’t that they wanted back in the studio, not even close. It was more they wanted a chance to make Joey regret ever starting all he had in the first place.

“They got to rip the bones out of the morons that dragged those two into our world, and yet, I can’t help but point out that I’ve yet to drown Joey in his own spinal fluids.” Alice, fingertips pressed together, elbows at her side, murder in her eyes, spoke.

“Very true!” Sammy agreed.

“That, and Boris is pretty efficient in murder, who knows how many bodies they got in that place now.” Norman mentioned. Both ink demons hissed at the name, though they did wilt a bit when Mugman shot them an unimpressed stare.

“For all we know there’s a third Jendy in that place now, mucking things up for random strangers trying to find a place to rest for the night.” Allison brought up.

Henry frowned deeply, eyes closed, mind racing even as the wind picked up and gravity grew more and more intense. Cagney tightened his grip around the two smallest deities, rooted as deeply as he could on the off chance the portal tried dragging Jendy back, which would most definitely result in Mugman being dragged along based on the intense grip he had on Mugman’s waist.

“If there is I wanna punch him.” Cuphead tossed out, raising a hand as if volunteering.

“Brother, you already punched this one.”

“Yeah but…I still wanna.”

“Next time you do I’m biting you.”

“Don’t bite my brother Jendy, you don’t know where’s he’s been.”

As the group spoke, growing more nervous, worried, annoyed, suspicious, or angry, that nothing came out aside from a blast of inky air, Devil strolled by them all, past the arguing and hushed debates to shuffle into the portal. King Dice sighed, eyes burning bright green. There was a thunderous crash, followed by Devil ambling back out, nose wrinkling as golden fire swept the ink splots on him away. Dragging the first incarnation of the ink machine behind him, he squint at the thing briefly, teeth flashing at something within the machine.

Both ink demons shuddered under the heavy rush of souls pouring into the ink that had remained in the studio. Jendy tugged on Mugman’s wrist.

“I don’t hear him, but he’s attached t’ that thing. How?” Confusion poured from him, only growing at the bright, yet somehow malicious smile the other donned.

“I burned him out, and a few of the others who were weighing you and Bendy down much too far. Also, this weird thing Cuphead somehow acquired helped out.”

“Oh… _Oh…_ ”

“Gross! He’s gonna cry ink all over you again!” Cuphead cried, leaning away from the sniffling demon clinging like a limpet to ‘my shining star, the beauty of the world, most merciful angel, Alice and the other one be damned.’

“I just figured if they did go back it would be funnier that way.” Mugman shrugged, patting Jendy between the horns absentmindedly.  

“Devil? What are you doing?” Djimmi asked, looking between the portal and the beast. Devil narrowed his eyes at the deity.

“Ripping the heart out. It’s my reward for playing _nice_ boring games with _you people_.”

Though the insult was tame, the bitter edge kept any from mentioning that. Even when the portal destabilized the further he dragged the machine away. Especially when there rose a loud shrieking howl from the portal. The studio burst into hellfire, devoured swiftly. Later, they’d find the studio rebuilt entirely in the deepest part of Hell, not the deeper parts, but the original studio, limited to a single floor sitting in the middle of an endless chasm. Within that studio, voices could be heard. One of which happened to be the very cause of all that had gone down in the studio, bound all the same as everyone else, not by death, but by being the lynchpin connecting all outliers.

Now though, it was just a lot of burning and smoke and souls being transferred even faster. Chalice and Hott both glowered at the two ink demons, with Chalice mouthing ‘forty thousand’ to Henry.

“Did…Did Devil forget we needed to get these people back first?” Hilda asked. Jendy and Bendy both hissed at her, Alice clicked her tongue, Norman’s light glared at her, Sammy’s mask frowned, and Allison and Tom both looked away. Henry let out a tired sigh, figuring he’d already reached the acceptance stage of grief.

“I bet if we took a quick dip in Elder Kettle’s brother, there’d be a world that they all went home and we went on with our lives.” Cuphead whispered to his brother. Mugman hummed, cool gaze on the portal vanishing without anything on the other side to keep it stable. There was a hearty spot of silence, then, a tiny squeak. Cuphead jolted, looking at his brother, at the self-satisfied smile, and at the tiny little plush.

He looked down at his Domain and snipped “ _nark_ ”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have fantastic news for people seeing that chapter number and going, "so it's not totally done?" and being glad to see that. I have two things left for this, mostly just bonus chapters if anything, so for those like 'great, the evil is defeated, we cool.', again, great news, technically yes.
> 
> Several things despite my suspicions anything typed here is ignored for the most part. I've got several things planned, mostly one-shots and the Bendy exclusive story i've been thinking about, the spite fix that isn't funny like Bendipe.
> 
> Harming their children with their own hand is a genuine absolute last resort. Mugman's Domain, and in turn Mugman, act on a 'give them every chance they could desire until they fall on the scales and prove to be too far from saving'. The game was 'let's see if we can't get Jendy to just call a truce and play nice, if we do that, then perhaps the ink will listen when he tells it to get off and perhaps even clean the isles!' Jendy failed spectacularly. And Mugman's Domain had no choice left.
> 
> What was it that Mage Mug's magic did? Several small things, namely, give a piece of his magic over so it could adapt itself, and the brothers through the shared Domain however is needed at the time, even if its just a little. Can Cuphead benchpress mountains now? No. Can he play competitive bitch toss with rowdy souls awaiting judgement and failing Mugman's offers to reduce the agony Retribution will put them through? Yeah, oh yeah.
> 
> This thing went through several endings, eventually falling to this one on its own. Some endings just might appear in one of the bonus chapters, they might not.  
> To everyone wondering what Jendy said when insulting King Dice's suit, he basically said king looked like an addled, unattractive woman in a coffin.
> 
> Thanks for the comments, thanks for reading, and thanks for being patient!  
> Ta Ta for now!


	24. Epilogue + What Could Have Been.

A brother in blue watched his sibling in red scamper up a tree. Off a little ways, they could hear Cagney shouting something at the Root brothers, but found it more interesting to ignore that. The one in red instead continued filling the one below in on his adventures in the well. Sure, his domain had mentioned a squeaky toy being acquired by an alternate version of the one perched on a tree stump, listening to the tale the other spun, but it hadn’t gone into any details.

An acorn the size of their heads was procured and examined while the red one continued to make gestures.

“And it was all underwater, and there was a you with a real fancy tail and I had a cool red one like Cala Maria! And I woulda seen more if they hadn’t brought up my legs and the other me got all huffy and smacked me back into the well. Which was lame, but then I was in a jungle and”

He pressed on, plopping acorns into his shadow, scampering over to another tree after collecting the ones he wanted from the first tree.

====-====-====-====

Inkwell Isle One, now a forest after the Root brothers got a bit too enthusiastic with fixing Inkwell, was in the middle of being fixed up by the nature deities. It’d been a good month since the incident, but the destruction and ensuing panic from the mainland had been enough to delay the true repairs up to that point. A few of the gods had left, ones that had little ability to truly help out, such as Elder Kettle and Wally. It had been quickly decided after seeing just how bad things really were, despite the early patch jobs, that Inkwell was in need of a few upgrades, and while Cala Maria and Goopy worked on dredging up more land to add to the edges of Isle One and Three, the rest worked inland.

Isle One sported a newly upgraded garden, one of the few places trees hadn’t sprouted, and the Observatory, which was currently under major construction. It had taken a little while to calm Hilda down as she’d sobbed and screamed at the state of her beloved building, even more so when a tree sprang up in one of the cracks in the floor.

Isle Two was barren of all former attractions and rides. In the central area by Bon Bon’s old home, Beppi and Bertrum drew plans, directing mortals and Djimmi when things were needed and where. Grim’s tower was the only thing left alone after he’d eaten Beppi and spat him out in the middle of the ocean to make his stance on changing his tower so severely known. Granted, he’d accepted a few innovative mortals putting a few internal upgrades in, and allowed artists to turn the tower into a massive art show. Chalices Mausoleums were all getting used for masonry practice, with the eager carvers practically drooling at the idea of a chunk of mountain free for them to carve whatever they pleased or slabs of whatever stone they wanted endlessly supplied for the other buildings that were freestanding.

Wally Jr, with help from Kahl and Werner, made new changes to the birdhouse, raising it higher off the ground. Isle Three held most of the other gods who’d stayed. Devil emerged from his cave every once in a while, often when he wanted to laugh at how slow the progress was going in rebuilding Isle Three. His own Casino and resort were once more pristine. He would have left to start the game anew, but he couldn’t exactly leave until he was sure the little studio wouldn’t do anything _unfortunate_.

He’d mentioned something about catching a bit of luck to add it to the place. Insurance he’d called it, a _nasty_ gleam in his eye as he’d looked out to the horizon. But Hell was still shaking off the effects of a fire that burned away _weight_. _Weight_ it was utterly drenched in and had no ability or desire to remove. So Devil stayed, keeping an eye on the thing within, imps working away at scrubbing off what made various demons sparkle with holy light any time they came near the area.

Werner and Kahl eagerly showed off all the things they’d come up with in regards to buildings and innovation, even as they upgraded their own homes. Rumor and Bon Bon strolled casually through the streets, observing the new and complete buildings. Every so often, Bon Bon would add a rune to the base of one of the buildings, reaffirming her blessing and ensuring the new homes on Inkwell would prosper. Rumors own building was already complete, one of the first to be fully repaired and furnished. The veritable hoard of life she’d sprouted to make it happen had quickly descended on the rest of the isle, going near rabid with building whatever was thrown at them. They alone were the reason Isle Three wasn’t in as clean a slate as Isle Two.

Currently however, it was the theater with the biggest flurry of action.

Sally just about frothed at the mouth, throwing blueprints here or there in her frantic efforts to add more, take that away, put this in its place, no! _That_ in its place! Her Theater was untouched still, aside from a rather nasty hole in one of the walls. Part of the cause of that hole was sitting on one of the piles of wood outside, pouting. He would have attempted to move, but the shoe print on his face and echoes of Henry’s disappointed frown kept his tush firmly in place.

That, and the creepy puppet “keeping guard”. Still, Bendy would most definitely take the weird replica of Cuphead over Boris any day. He’d tried greeting the other puppet but the creepy one had just about removed his head the second he’d held a hand out towards ‘Replimug’. Who, at the moment, sat on a bench beside the theater with a radio in his lap, filling the area with a merry batch of tunes.

Henry stood across the table, drawing the new and improved theater, youthful features practically glowing with enthusiasm. He’d throw in another idea, or add to what she’d tossed out. It’d gotten to the point where all she had to do was hold her hand up and her theater would spit out a new ream of paper. Blueprints covered the ground around them, picked up every so often when a new angle to a previous idea hit them.

A bit away, by a fence, Alice spoke to Cala, smooth face bright, painted lips pulled into a wide, awed smile. “And if you give it just a quick twist after that, the neck bones snap faster than you can blink!” Cala told her, holding herself up on her elbow on a lower ledge so she was face to face with the woman.

 “But how do you lure them in when they’re already suspicious?” Alice asked, excitement dripping from her voice. Cala sweetly laughed, fingers daintily resting on her chest. Bendy didn’t hear what the goddess said after that, as she’d leaned in to whisper it to the other, but he got the distinct impression he should be glad he didn’t have a neck, and the feeling that Alice was _far_ too into one of her new jobs as night guard for the theater.

Norman emerged from the theater, a hearty stack of reels in his inky arms. He could return to his previous human features, but it had been so long Norman just couldn’t feel comfortable if he wasn’t toting a projector for a head and blinding people he didn’t like.

“Henry! Theater just dug up more of these damn things and for the life of me I can’t figure out how the animation department organized these! One second I got Bendy on a boat and the next he’s fighting the Butcher gang with French bread!”

Henry paused, right in the middle of drawing canons shooting fireworks into the air onto each of the corners of the building. Sally waved him away, eyeing their current progress with adoration for her building in her eyes.

Sammy sprint out a moment later, sheet music spilling out from his arms.

“Woman, get that brain working on a dramatic retelling of the three blind mice!” He shouted at Sally. Her head shot up, a twinkle in her eye.

“How dramatic we talkin?”

He slammed the papers down, a manic gleam in his eye.

“Violins for _days_.”

She visibly shuddered, already frazzled hair fluffing out as a manic gleam slipped into her own eyes. Allison and Tom, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, wondered just whether this was a different sort of purgatory.

Boris sat on another pile of wood, content to munch on a sandwich while watching everyone else work. Every so often though, his pie-cut eyes would flick down to the hastily drawn line between him and Bendy, drawn by the demon after the rotting head incident. Pausing mid bite, he looked over at Bendy, and whistled. The demon glanced over, a brow arching high. The puppet beside him shifted as the other puppet emerged from the building. Puphead just about threw himself out of sitting, cheerfully calling out to the other, evidently done with staring blankly at Bendy with a rather shady painted smile on his face.

Bendy glanced over at Henry, then over at Sally, and finally at the nearest shadow. When no one or nothing jumped out at him, he stood, eyes narrowed. Boris waved him over, friendly face showing none of what the hound was thinking. Still, Bendy had remembered Mugman wagging a finger at Boris, telling him to play nice. He remembered the hound had nodded, and hoping that had meant he was safe, that the rotting head incident was a one-off thing, he trot over.

Boris nudged the picnic basket towards him. It had been given to everyone by Bon Bon, but Boris currently had it in his possession. Bendy, still highly in love with food, especially the older parts of him the toon parts that loudly proclaimed food was great for so many gags and stunts, took the hint. Reaching eagerly into the basket, he felt what he hoped was a sandwich, and pulled out the treat.

A sandwich indeed emerged, two pieces of bread with a severed hand in between them. The hand twitched, closing suddenly on his own hand and he shrieked, leaping a hearty five feet in the air. Boris let out a whistling laugh, slapping his knee as the ink demon sprint around, trying to tear the hand off after it switched from his hand to his face. Tom snort, malicious gleam bright in his eyes. Allison rolled hers, far too busy with inventory to bother with the antics of toons.

Bendy wailed for Henry, vision obscured by the hand trying to claw his eyes off. Vaguely he could swear he heard Jendy’s laughter, but frankly the hand took precedence over anything else. He was stopped by someone, and it wasn’t a fleshy hand that removed the attacker but porcelain. Pie-cut took in the confused blue eyes, and then watched the hand go up in a flash of golden fire, vanishing to nothing within a second.

Jendy smacked a hand on the ground, cackling and pointing at Bendy. Cuphead’s shoulders shook, lips tightly pressed together to keep the laughter in. Bendy, tears in the corners of his eyes, scooped up Mugman, wailing ‘Savior!’ above the surprised squeak.

“Oh what happened, was Boris mean again?” Mugman cooed, quickly getting over his surprise. Bendy, head buried in his chest, nodded. Mugman sighed, and Boris felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple. Jendy glared at Bendy as the other continued to hug the blue deity. Henry buried his face in his hands, wheezing from his desperation to not burst into hysterical laughter. Sally just about set the paper on fire as she watched them.

====-====-====-====

A few weeks later, with Isle two nearing the end of construction—new additions ranging from something akin to Fisher’s Fate, and a carousel with every one of the gods artfully carved in the central pillar—Isle Three just one building away, the boys decided it was time to head out into the world. Of course, that was a tad difficult when there was an ink demon clinging to Mugman, begging him not to leave.

“Don’t leave me here with these bozo’s! I’m beggin ya! I’ll be real quiet!”

Mugman desperately tried to keep his laughter in as Cuphead and Bendy worked at prying Jendy’s arms off from around Mugman’s waist. Bendy hissed when Jendy threw his legs into the mix, latching onto the deity slowly losing the fight and breaking into hysterical laughter. Bon Bon watched from the sidelines, glaring at Jendy, cleaning her impressive gun collection with startling efficiency. Henry stood over a crowbar and a hammer, debating whether knocking what amounted to his son out or attempting to pry him off would be faster.

“I’m telling you, he gets it from the asshole, I was never this clingy.” Henry muttered towards Sally who was actively taking bets from the others on how long it would take to get the demon off.

“Look buddy if I gotta stay here with Boris so do you!” Bendy snapped, digging his heels in. Jendy’s arm melted away, and while it solidified again in the next second, it was enough for Bendy to be sent head over heels into Bon Bon. She looked down at him akin to Sammy looking at a smudge of ink on his sheet music, so packed with disdain Bendy garbled out an apology and scurried away. The shadows worked to keep Mugman up, Domains torn between amusement and annoyance.

“You can’t come with us you weirdo!” Cuphead got out through grit teeth, straining to tear the fingers off. It was near impossible when the fingers just bent back, melted into the gloves, and reappeared back where they’d been before, digging in stronger than before. “You can’t leave the theater!” He continued, screaming at Mugman for not helping through their shared Domain. All he got for an answer was harder laughter, tears streaming down Mugman’s cheeks now.

“Course he can! Only ones that can’t are my new employees. Those two are linked to that Machine, not my theater, same with Henry.” Sally called out, accountant visor on her head, a gleam in her eye as she watched the betting pool and King Dice—ever lured in when an entertaining game was at play—kept an eye on the time. “And even they can go all the way to the edge of Isle One and be good to go. How else d’ you think Puphead visits you at night?”

“He what?!” Cuphead, distracted by the knowledge the jerk of a puppet actually got in Elder Kettle’s house at night, missed the ink pooling under his feet, not until he shifted his weight, his boot caught the ink, and he too went down.

“Victory!” Jendy shrieked, hauling Mugman off the ground even as Mugman started making halfhearted attempts to get Jendy to put him down.

“My son is a moron.” Henry groaned.

“Who does he get that from?” Sammy questioned lightly.

“That’s the stubborn determination Henry has, for sure.” Norman answered even as Henry finally picked up the crowbar.

“No, back off! I already won!” Jendy cried, shoving a shoe in Bendy’s face, keeping the other away. “I’ll eat you! I swear I will!”

“I’m telling Henry!”

“He already knows, you loser! He’s right there!”

Hilda squint at them. “I can’t believe that’s the same guy that clawed my face off.”

“The question is how long the whack-job intends on playing keep-away with the kid, I think Bon Bon’s three seconds from snapping.” Djimmi tossed back, arms crossed. Jendy, cargo in tow, dodged and leapt over the many attempts to grab him again, which, to the deities, was frankly impressive considering how vitriolic the gleam in Cuphead’s eye was.

“I ain’t staying here wit’ the fuzzy jackass! Look he’s making fun of me right now!”

“He’s making fun of both of us!” Bendy shouted moments before he learned what pavement tasted like. From the doorway of the theater, Boris watched them, making faces at the two demons, pointing and laughing at them. Tom beside him had a vindictive sort of air about him, arms crossed, dark amusement on his face, like they were both waiting for something to smite the two.

“What’s the harm in bringing the fella? I bet there wouldn’t be another incident like this one with that one around.” Grim asked, wondering just when Bon Bon got rocket launcher. “Bet the fella wouldn’t hesitate t’ just eat any nasty ol’ cultist might still be wanderin’ about.” Bon Bon paused midway through breaking down her pistol, a wide-eyed conflicted glaze sliding over her horrified face.

“I’d try turning him into a newt, but…” Djimmi drifted off, remembering the horrid backlash he’d gotten trying to get Henry’s family out of the ink. He’d wound up bedridden for another three days, and his Domain had refused to grant any other wish of the sort ever again. Hilda sympathetically pat him on the arm.

“If someone knocks him out I could keep him under for a little while I think.” They all watched Jendy used Bendy as a spring board, dodging Cuphead, landing on a light post. He hissed at them as Mugman wheezed, thumping Jendy’s back a few times as laughter poured from him.

“Has anyone tried butter yet?” Beppi asked, leaning on his sister’s shoulder. A few of the gods glanced his way, then at Bon Bon. She glared at them.

“I don’t have any, little shit over there ate all of it after _that one_ pranked him.” She jerked a thumb at Boris, malcontent beyond contention. “Turns out, he takes pranks better, because he just downed the entire freakin plate like it was an award-winning dish!”

Cuphead, steam rising from his head, tried going into the shadows, flailing as he missed his target. Norman, now sporting an ink demon and a giggly deity on his shoulders, sighed.

“Henry they’re both defective.” The projectionist intoned. Henry carefully edged closer, wondering how hard he’d have to swing to break whatever Jendy had for bones.

“Don’t make me ground you!” The artist warned, “I’ll put you with your asshole father! Swear on her theater I will!”

Jendy hissed. “You ain’t the boss of me old man!”

“No but I am the champion of making you drink your own bone marrow.”

“Henry, from one dead guy to another, put the crowbar away until he’s away from me. I like having a functioning face, I really do.” Norman crackled, giving the crowbar a suspicious stare.

“Would ya quit laughin and help!” Cuphead snapped, glaring at his brother. Mugman wiped a tear from his eye, listening to the ranting insults aimed at Jendy within their Domain. Jendy hissed at him, clearly aware of the less than friendly attitude the red cup had towards him.

_‘Come on baby brother! I’m gonna go stir crazy if I gotta stay here any longer!’_

_‘Oh fine, don’t be mad though.’_

_‘Why would I…’_

“So you want to come with us?” Mugman, face still flushed a soft blue from his earlier fits of laughter, leaned back so he could look down at Jendy who immediately turned all his attention to the other. The ink demon just about shook his own face off with how hard he enthusiastically nodded. Mugman tapped a finger to his cheek, blue eyes flickering gold. “I tell you what, if you can promise to do two little things, _my dear,_ I’ll let you.”

Those around got the distinct impression if the goblin on the projectionist’s shoulders had a tail it would have wagged right off him by now.

“I’ll do anythin’!”

And it was right about the time Mugman’s face shifted into the one that made everyone immediately glare at King Dice, with Bon Bon hissing ‘horrible influence’ at the highly amused deity, that many decided then and there Mugman was no longer allowed to be left alone with King Dice.

====-====-====-====

Every so often, Sally’s plays would showcase inky actors in roles they took to like ducks to water. The technical parts of her plays leapt leagues ahead of outside theaters, the leader in testing new, showy props and techniques. The Beauty and the Beast was a blazing success, and if one asked Sally, she’d have said there was no better play to introduce her new actors. It was also how it was proven that no, the theater wasn’t going to contain what a few of the gods still believed to be the worst thing to hit Inkwell since the corruption—though even that was overshadowed by the day Kahl and Werner found a way to super charge the energetic effects of coffee, Inkwell hadn’t _always_ been a trio of Isles after all.

All of them eventually agreed that if the two had to be wandering about, as Henry just shook his head at the question, sitting in a plush theater chair while reading a letter from his Aunt. Bendy, despite not wanting to abandon Henry, had been given a hearty pat on the head and a ‘bring me back stories I can draw cartoons to, and keep Jendy in check, okay?’. 

“No, no, stay in here,” Sally spoke lightly, examining a script. “Beppi visits often, and you look like you’re having _so much fun_ learning the foxtrot.”

Bendy had paled, ducking his head down, as if afraid the clown would drop down on him and drag him off to whatever void the theater brought them to when Beppi asked. He powerwalked over to the cup brothers.

“Oh boy I can’t wait gonna explore _so_ much as _far_ away from that guy as possible let’s go don’t wanna keep you waitin!” Bendy got out in a jumbled mess, dragging the siblings out, both wearing amused smiles on their faces. Jendy trot out after them, smacking at Bendy’s hand to try and get it so he alone held Mugman’s hand. Bendy, thinking he heard a squeak, _an evil squeak_ , just about dragged the trio out, inky sweat beading down his face.

Behind him, unseen, Henry put the two balloons away, a glint in his eye.

Of course, having a pair of ink demons that often spent their time hiding in the shadows—most often Mugman’s simply because the one and _only_ time they’d tried plopping themselves a breath above Cuphead’s shadow as they did with Mugman’s, the shadow had writhed, and spat out a beheaded Bendy plush.

Never let it be said the ink demon’s couldn’t take a hint when they saw it.

It took a surprisingly small amount of time for others to warm up to the demons. Mortals who worshipped or liked the cup brothers only had to see Jendy leap from the shadows and tear the hand off a person taking a swing at Mugman _once_ to agree he was a welcome addition. The fact that the other one got someone angry at him, enough that they charged at him and fell right into Cuphead’s shadow was just a bonus, and more reassurance to them that they’d never have to fear for the health of their beloved gods again.

Though, if some thought that while suspiciously looking out for anyone talking about regaining power over the gods, well that was their business and no one elses.

**Bonus: What could have happened.**

**(The skippable section below is simply my answer to a comment asking about what it would have looked like if any of my other AU’s had gotten mixed in rather than Corruption. As well as a couple of other bonuses such as how it could have ended. The final chapter after this one is going to feature cut content. Things that didn’t make it into the chapters, either through me editing them out or the idea not working with what the world turned the actions to be. I hope you enjoy it!)**

**If the portal had dragged the Lady and Knight in.**

“No.” Lady Mugs stated quite plainly, looking at the ink pool dripping from one of the pipes. Bendipe would have made a confused face if Henry hadn’t been looking.

“Oh come on Mugs,” The Knight nudged his sibling’s arm. “Might as well get it over with. You know it’s bound to happen anyway.” The Lady narrowed his eyes, clutching his satin, downy grey gown.

“No.” He reaffirmed, hiking his skirts up enough to be sure they weren’t dragging on the floor, and carefully making his way down the hall. Cuphead snickered. “I _like_ this dress, and if Inkwell gets us back and I’ve got a ruined dress, it’s going to shove that _other_ one at me and I’ll be _long_ dead before I’m seen wearing _that thing._ ”

“It only likes it cause the sequins.” Cuphead whispered to the other two, wide grin on his face. He humored his brother, even going as far as lifting him over the pipe blocking their way to the machine. At the pool of ink, the splatters of the stuff everywhere, Mugs had clung tightly to his brother, just about hissing at the nearest puddle of the stuff.

“You can try holding Bendipe, it’s less likely you’ll get ink on you if he’s watching out for you, right Bendipe?” Henry offered. The cutout stared at him, and Henry, being Henry, saw that acquiescence in his beloved toons eye. Mugs hummed, gazing at the pie-cut eyes. Bendipe, currently linked to all the others, wished he’d known about how cute a smile could be. As it stood, no less than four cutouts had their eyes melt from the sheer level of sugar sweetness.

“That’s kind of you! Thank you.” He accepted the cutout, and between a blink and the next, the cutout was smaller, easier for Mugs to carry around. Henry nodded, quite pleased that his brain child had manners. It wouldn’t do to be impolite to someone who’d complimented the bowtie after all.

====-====-====-====

The toons stared at the corpse like one would an abstract art piece. Ultimately, it was Mugs who spoke first.

“But why?” He asked to no one in particular.

“Joey’s a diva? Hobos with issues? Mobster toons wanting to send a message for missed payments?” Henry tossed out, yanking the wrench from Boris’ chest.

“Tacky interior decorating skills? Science gone wrong in the sloppiest way possible.” Cuphead followed, prodding at an exposed rib. Bendipe stared at a wall. “Though, and don’t take this the wrong way, this place is pretty boring, even the corpses are boring!”

Henry snort, “Wait ‘til that affront to machines kicks on, stuff _really_ gets going then. It’s still boring, don’t get me wrong, but it’s better than this.”

The toons hummed, choosing to trust the human on that. They didn’t spare a second glance at the body.

====-====-====-====

Henry watched the toons scamper around, calling out to one another when they found one of the items. He dearly wanted to see how the studio was going to swipe the squeaky toy out of Mugs’ hand. Kid had it in a death grip, eyes glittering, squeaking it with blatant glee.

“And it’s such a small bowtie! Look at it Cuphead!” The Knight nodded absentmindedly, trying to work out how he’d gone from having a record to not having one.

“There are bigger ones downstairs.” Henry threw in, “bigger than Bendipe. Hell, bigger than I am tall, it’d probably dwarf you.”

Ever so slowly, the Knight leaned out from the room he’d been in, giving Henry a look that shrieked ‘I trusted you, and you betrayed me’. Mugs stared at the squeaky toy, looked at Bendipe—who Henry couldn’t help but note looked _way_ too amused—then at Henry.

He turned to Cuphead, the doll gave out a squeak, and “Cuphead, we’re getting to where these plushies are, and I’m taking _all of them._ ”  To everyone else, the following squeak sounded encouraging, and if Henry didn’t inherently trust his toon, he’d be a mite bit worried.

Cuphead however, balked, wildly gesturing at his own armor.

“Do you see magical pockets on me? Where would you keep them all? Even the big one!”

“Papa will have ideas. Move it brother! We’ve got plushies to acquire!” With a swirl of skirts, the rapid-fire click of heels on wood, and a squeak, Mugs was off. A flurry of motion on a hunt. Cuphead shot a narrow-eyed glare at Henry, more affronted than angry. Henry just spoke to another cutout, trying to work out ways to speed run the halls without missing out on all the fun things.

====-====-====-====

“Mugs, put the plush on the pedestal.”

“Back off brother, I’ve got doe-eyes and I’m not afraid to use them!”

“Okay, okay hear me out. Sacrifice that one, and get something better downstairs!”

“Yeah Mugs, listen to the traitor.”

“There’s a whole factory down there, can make all the plushies you want.”

“Oooh!”

The Knight watched in utter horror as the traitorous human flipped the switch to start the power up process. “ _A factory?”_ He muttered, a vision of a mountain of plushies raining down, squeaking up a storm all the while, flashing before his eyes.

====-====-====-====

Now right about here is where Bendipe does his cute little hide and seek move. It’s adorable, he peeks out around the corner all mischievous like and…” Henry drifted off as the lights flickered. The bulb above weakly struggled against the force dimming it, straining to keep the hall illuminated as best its tiny filaments could. For a solid heartbeat, it succumbed, and the hall went pitch black.

The light kicked on again, and Jendy stood at the end, a broad grin on his face. Henry debated how fast he could get to the other, intercept him, keep him away from the toons. He heard the Knight draw his sword, and a sharp gasp from the Lady, but before he could move, the light went out again.

When they kicked back on, Jendy was looking down at the sword sticking out of his chest, grin ever wide. It sank into his body uselessly.

“Goodness gracious!” Lady Mugs cried, putting Bendipe down behind him and reaching for Jendy’s malformed gloved hand. “Oh you poor dear, just look at you!” And it must have been the genuine worry in the Lady’s voice, or perhaps it was the fact that he was in a dress, Henry didn’t know, he also didn’t really care. But Jendy just… let Mugs take his hand. The inky shadows behind him spat question marks out like fireworks.

“What sort of horrible creator do you have! Such a lack of caring, they should be ashamed of themselves.”

Bendipe—and in turn all the cutouts—tried to figure out when Jendy had gone from looming to kneeling down so his face could be examined by the toon. Mugs either didn’t see or care that ink was getting on his gloved hands, but Cuphead was less than pleased.

“Ohhh, is your creator a terrible person?” Mugs cooed, voice soft and gentle. Jendy let out a weird, wet sniffle, and nodded, a green and yellow light growing brighter around him. “Poor dear… Oh, brother, just look at him! It’s like his creator started the process and just quit part way!” Mugs turned to his brother, all while hugging Jendy’s face, patting the lanky toon soothingly.

“You were making all this fuss about getting ink on your dress, and here we are! And he ate my sword! I _like_ that sword!”

“A little stain remover and it’ll be right as rain. Mr. Henry, you didn’t tell us there was a golem in here!”

Henry, and Bendipe, gave a great big shrug, entirely lost. Jendy just sniffled into Mugs chest, unable to voice his thoughts properly, and angry about that fact. Then again, he wasn’t the only one upset, as evident when the studio gave out a loud, warning groan. Mugs eyes narrowed, growing sharper, darker. One of Jendy’s hands rose, the inky one, twitching all the while as it reached up to the Lady’s handle. Henry and Bendipe didn’t fail to notice how Cuphead went from annoyed, to agitated and reaching for his own handle, to relaxed, _amused_.

The hand brushed against the ribbon, and in a flash, half of Jendy’s arm was gone, the stump boiling at the end. The world grew dark, _heavy_ , causing Henry to stagger. The man caught himself on the wall as a flurry of odd, vicious whispers clamored out from seemingly nowhere. The Knight crossed his arms, the Lady shushed Jendy, and then there was big, tall, furry _thing_ was standing in the room, what looked like the flames of Hell pouring from him.

“New rule! Any time something kidnaps you, you grab the damn ribbon!” The beast roared, void black fur sparking with the remaining bits of flame.

“Yes Papa.” Mugs replied with little hesitation, then he pointed at the stunned ink demon still in his arms. “Look what we’ve found! Oh, and that one! Aren’t they cute?” The beast huffed, sparing a brief glance their way.

“Tolerable. Look, do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Inkwell put a time limit on my head! I’ve got less than half an hour to get you two back home before the dirt offs my wife!”

“We can’t just leave them! That rude fellow has these souls stuck in a loop, it’d be just awful of us! Can’t you do something?”

Henry wasn’t even in the line of fire and the cute pouring from the one in the gown made his eyes water.

“Pa, he ate my sword and I want it back.” Cuphead followed, less cute, more indignant.

“Uh…” Henry managed to get out, already rearranging the run list to put this on the top of ‘surprising starts’.

“I’ll get you a new one,” Their father? Replied, even as the heat started to rise.

“No! Please!” Mugs clutched Jendy tighter, suffocating the toon at this point. “I’ll start calling that guy in the clouds grandpa if you help them.”

The beast paused, eyes getting a faraway look for a moment. Instead of giving a verbal answer, the world _shifted_. Henry choked, collapsing to his knees under the sheer weight around him. The weight, which vanished a minute later. Henry’s ears rang, his vision wavering.

“First, go out there and tell the dirt to give my wife back. Second...is that thing melting?” Sucking in a deep breath, Henry got his bearing straight, lifting his heavy head up, watching ink pour from Jendy. Movement beside him made him turn, and on the ground face first was not Bendipe, but Bendy. He was about to speak until the roof was torn clear off the building, and a massive carnation shoved his face into the hall.

“Where are my favorite—and only—nephews!” The flower shouted frantically, throwing _the entire roof_ behind him like it was nothing. “Holy shit you gotta stop pulling these stunts!” The same hands that had torn the roof off shredded the walls, giving the body more access, allowing the flower to lean in and go in for a hug, only to stop at the sight of ink everywhere.

By the time the ink stopped pouring, Henry was looking between a dazed Bendy and an awestruck Jendy staring at Mugs like a man lost in the desert looked at water. The ground shuddered, and Cuphead spoke up.

“Yes Inkwell, we’re fine! No, you can’t keep Ma as collateral, Pa’s gonna have a conniption at this rate!”

A wave of green magic spilled out from Mugs, washing over Henry and the rest, purging the cotton feeling from Henry’s head, soothing all the aches and pains. From down the hall, where the Machine normally sat, voices rose.

“Henry what the _fuck?!”_

“The roof is gone!”

“That’s a big flower.”

 A moment later a white die with purple pips stormed through one of the holes in the wall. Clearly fuming, clearly out for blood, he was only stopped by the tall furry one sweeping him up for a kiss. Yet even that didn’t soothe him. Vivid, poisonous eyes burned into his, taking in the scene around him with terrifying fury.

“Did you do all this?” The man’s voice was smooth, and had Henry not just seen Death sprint away, hiking up their robes and shrieking they couldn’t afford the therapy anymore, he’d have snarked. Instead he just wordlessly shook his head.

“Mr. King Dice!” Mugs, who now had a sobbing mess clinging to him like a limpet, babbling about never wanting to leave the Lady’s side, perked up. “There’s this rude fellow in here, put all these poor souls into an endless loop, and I was wondering if you knew anyone who could teach him a thing or two.”

From a distance, but getting closer, “Holy shit is that the real sky?”

“So that’s what fresh air smells like.”

“Oh man, I just realized, I can bask in the sun and no risk of sunburn!”

Henry, suitably lost in a void of confusion, felt his brain sniff once, look around, throw its little brain hands up, and walk off. It would later come back upon learning he was, in fact, dead. Then before the sorrow could hit him, the Lady would proceed to coax Jendy into finding his families souls and he’d get to witness his inky aunt rip Boris’ spine out, lock eyes with Joey, who’d also been dragged out by Devil, and they’d all learn where Henry got his creativity from.

They’d also learn to vaguely fear the Lady, as when Joey’s soul attempted to flee, it wasn’t the Devil, or Lady Luck, or even the machine that kept him in place while Jendy cracked his knuckles, side by side with Bendy, united in their hatred for the man and all too content to share the revenge. It was a sweetly smiling Lady Mugs, bright green and yellow electricity pulsing in the air, dancing a macabre light around what none in the area would ever forget.

**If Mageverse had fallen in.**

“I present to you, the worlds ugliest machine!”

“Well see normally here’s where I’d be real cool and break it, but I really want to see how this plays out.” The red tinted porcelain doll spoke, eyes sparkling with bemusement.

“But what if Elder worries?” His blue tinted brother asked.

“We’ll have to help little old ladies float their cats out of trees until Inkwell agrees to stop calling in the national guard every time he goes to visit. Nothing we haven’t done before.” The blue one frowned, but ultimately nodded, fidgeting with his sleeves.

====-====-====-====

Finding the sacrifices, starting up the machine, all of it went exactly as usual aside from Bendipe not springing out. Once it was roaring away, waiting for them to return to its atrocity of an existence, was when things shifted.

There was a new saturated feeling in the air. Where before it just smelled of rubber ink and smugness, there was an even larger feeling of curious malcontent. Not unfriendly towards him and Bendipe, but amused, and more than glad to show the studio it wasn’t top dog anymore. When they got back, when Jendy popped up, Cuphead grabbed his outstretched one, and crushed the hand, giving the arm such a powerful shake, it broke the boards and sent Jendy so hard into the floor he left an imprint.

“Cuphead no! He’s got a bowtie!” Mugman cried, a hand out as if to stop his sibling.

“So did King Dice!”

“Oh Mr. King Dice wasn’t that bad! For all you know he was just trying to escape that nasty contraption!”

Cuphead groaned, peeling the wheezing ink demon out of the floor and giving him a cursory pat on his back. “There, all better.” He put emphasis on his words, sounding theatrically nice to everyone else. “Swear he was reachin’ to start a fight though.” He continued, grumbling. Then ink began to flood everywhere, and instead of letting them run for the exit, the studio broke sequence, dropping them further in before Jendy could recover.

Not that he did. He just sort of curled into the ink, crunched himself into a tight ball, and fervently hoped something killed them all so he wouldn’t have to come back out.

====-====-====-====

Sammy didn’t say anything as he watched a walking, talking porcelain doll heave a searcher out of the ink and tear it apart. He just leaned on Henry, and crossed his arms. Next to them, Mugman pat Bendipe, praising him for warning them about the ink in front of the exit door before Cuphead had just stepped in.

When they were supposed to run into Jendy again, Henry and Sammy both stood slack-jawed as he actively fought his own body, trying desperately not to approach Cuphead who had his arms open in a ‘hug me’ gesture, and a gleam of mischievous maliciousness in his eye.

“I thought he liked chasing us.” Sammy got out.

“I think he also likes not knowing how many layers the floor is made of.” Henry sent back, just as awed. Bendipe smiled, because it was funny, and because he had to.

“Brother, you can play later, now you’ve said you wanted to see more of this place.” Mugman intercepted, lightly pushing his sibling away from Jendy’s path. Cuphead snickered, letting his brother lead him away.

No one missed how the ink looked more like thankful tears rolling down his face.

====-====-=====-====

Mugman frowned at Boris, tilting his head side to side at random intervals, as if trying to piece something together. His brother looked at the collage, nose wrinkled in distaste. Sammy watched, amused beyond measure, taking a page from Henry and waiting to see the outcome. Bendipe sat by Mugman, and Henry was snoozing behind them.

“Such an odd fella.” The brother in blue eventually spoke softly, leaning closer to Bendipe. “I don’t like him.”

Cuphead perked up upon hearing that, a glint in his eye that made Boris stare harder into nothing, desperate to not attract the attention of unknown people.

“He’s keeping us here until we make him soup.” Sammy mentioned, mask _far_ too chipper looking. Mugman pressed a hand to his chest, affronted at the very idea of even opening one of the cans of soup. He’d seen a searcher dissolve in the stuff, he wasn’t keen on touching it. His brother strolled over, hands in his pockets, teeth bared in a _wide_ grin. “See that door? He’s got the lever for it.”

And it was great that Henry had finished his power nap at the right time, or perhaps Cuphead had seen him stirring. Whatever it was, Henry was awake enough to see Cuphead rip the door right off the wall and bend it into an accordion shape, maintaining that less than friendly grin. Mugman plucked Bendipe from the ground, giving his brother a bright word of thanks, quickly exiting the room, choosing to wait for Henry away for the one that had his magic cackling.

Once Henry was next to Mugman, and Sammy was out of the room, Cuphead loftily hefted the door up, tossing it lightly a few times into the air. Then, with more force than he’d put into anything thus far, he threw the door back in the room. It didn’t so much as soar past Boris as blink past him, turning the stove into scrap pieces. It was like someone had put a claymore mine into the stove and set it off.

If they thought it was amazing to see Jendy actively fight his role, it was twice as funny to see a weak-kneed Boris drag his own body towards them. Mugman frowned, leaning away from the toon, keeping his brother between him and Boris.

“Henry he’s weird.”

“Yeah I know, he’s Joey’s toon, I think he inherited the lackluster weird.”

Sure, Boris didn’t need to go into the vent, not after Cuphead peeled the door up like it was paper, but he did anyway.

====-====-====-=====

“I want a hundred.”

“Mugs no.”

“You’re absolutely right big brother, I need to go higher, I want a thousand. No more bunk bed, I’m just going to sleep on a giant plush.”

“Mugs—”

A massive squeak, near deafening, leaving Cuphead rattling, Sammy groaning, Henry scratching his ears, and Bendipe smiling. Stars grew in Mugman’s eyes, a spark, and there were three of the giant plushies. Cuphead threw his hands in the air as Mugman’s happy laughter echoed through the toy factory.

Alice had no chance to be mysterious, not when she was smothered by a giant Alice Angel plushie. When she shot Henry an incredulous look, Henry just shrugged, wearing a peppy grin clear as day.

When Jendy next found them, it was to find Mugman carting a plushie and Bendipe around, Henry hanging a searcher pelt on the wall, Alice grumbling while wiping ink off her leg, Sammy humming near religiously near a radio, and Boris clinging to the back wall of the elevator, giving him the look of a tortured soul begging not for freedom, but for someone to end it.

Notably, he ignored the hound.

Mostly out of spite, but also because he didn’t see Cuphead, and he’d never felt more terror in his life than the moment a butcher gang member came careening past him, squealing in horror, with Cuphead sprinting after it, a manic gleam in his eye. He looked at Bendipe. Bendipe looked at him. Within the ink, a conversation occurred.

‘Switch with me. You be the limpy moron for a change.’

‘No.’

‘Please?’

‘Hell no.’

‘May your mustache melt and your cardboard get wrinkly.’

‘Die in a fire.’

====-====-====-====

Jendy shivered, pressed against a wall, _something_ keeping not only the ink, but Joey from him. It wasn’t that his strings were cut, it was that they were too weak to pull him one way or another. The blue one, the one he’d at first thought was the least threatening, stared at him with a sugary smile. Behind him, Jendy could hear the red demon tearing apart the trains, showing Norman how to throw more effectively. Bendipe had been carried in the room as well, and the plush was missing, which somehow only terrified Jendy more.

“Are you bored?” The potential blue demon asked plainly. Jendy shuddered, trying to put more weight on his weaker leg just to get further from Mugman. A heavy weight rolled down him, observing him coolly. A predator determining whether the morsel before it would be filling enough to be worth it.

“I am. I was hoping this odd situation would be more fun. But it’s a sloppy mess held together by a guy who won’t stop yelling and it’s quite annoying. So, are you bored too? Is this fun?” He gestured behind him towards the room with the others. Jendy rapidly shook his head, ink splattering off his face.

“I’m still not great at breaking chains, but I think it would be far more entertaining if that shouty man was here instead of using you as his face, or Boris, don’t you think?” The doll tilted his head, and it was then that both Bendipe, Bendy, and Jendy, all decided that no level of sweet could counter the devious lilt to the dolls _everything._ “Would you like to help me play a game? I call it, _magic roulette.”_

Maybe it was because he was an idiot, perhaps it was because the cute batting of lashes and the fact that the doll hadn’t hurt him yet—just turned him bright pink, which even he thought was funny if he was being honest—but Jendy found himself nodding.

Bendipe would say it was because he was hopeless, and—being fair, Jendy was pretty hopeless that he’d be in for anything other than utter agony for the rest of eternity with Henry. He’d never asked to be part of a purgatory Joey should have been in, suffering in his own flesh rather than lingering outside where he could look down on everyone else, safe in his hovel.

Jendy nodded, and Mugman _smiled._

====-====-====-====

Mugman’s magic couldn’t reverse being dead. It hadn’t devoured something that could do that yet, but by the stars was it looking out for something like that. What it could do though? Well if one were to ask those bound to the studio, it was more than enough. Sure, Cuphead had griped a bit, but seeing his sibling pout, seeing the way Mugman’s patience for the place had all but died, it didn’t take him long to cave. Henry was dead, sure, so was everyone else. But with a powerful lurch, the tape snapped, and the loop broke. The curse fought viciously, cracking Mugman’s jaw off in retaliation for him tearing into it, rewiring it. His magic, an ever-crushing presence, chose to simply devour much of what made _the thing_ in the machine so strong in return.

Jendy’s broken form vanished, with the ink warping, changing from having a desire to obey Joey, the one who’d originally constructed it, built it into the studio, to needing to appease Jendy and Bendy. The cutouts vanished, all merging into Bendipe, and in turn Bendy. No souls could leave still, the curse was far too ingrained to allow that big a change. But that was fine to many. Those powerful enough to either stay out of the ink or remember themselves enough to emerge from the ink were more than content to linger. Henry was a sobbing wreck as his family encircled him, near crushing him with hugs and cries for him to ‘point to the dead mother fucker. Just show us where the ass clown is and we’ll present to you his skeleton’.  

Bendy and Jendy had stared at one another, one a pristine replica of _Bendy_ , and the other a sharper, slightly taller version, and gave curt nods. A truce was called between them. Mugman, swaying even as he sat, tired and cranky, refused to let go of the giant plush he’d perched himself on after ‘correcting’ everything. Cuphead sighed, flipping a coin to decide whether it was worth being turned into a porcelain pig again to just try and conk his sibling out or not.

When they did eventually return to Elder, it was with an army of plushies, a vial of ink that could act as a door, and a bunch of stories to tell.

=====-=====-====-====

**If the ink had just hauled the gods away from their Domains. (Bad end)**

In the circle of light, a ring of flames danced, burning away the harsh ink as best it could. The Domain pressed a shadowy nose to its child’s side, willing him to stop crying. It whispered promises that nothing would hurt him, it wouldn’t let anything near, nothing would hurt him. It had already proven itself stronger thus far, even as it played the game, even as its other half reemerged from the well. It would _always_ protect its sweet child.

But the problem with believing in absolutes, was that absolutes could always be _persuaded_ to change.

The _thing_ had grown impatient. The ink reacted accordingly, and as its preferred child and pristine child fought, as the thing guarding the prize battled, it moved.

Such a thin ankle it was, so small, _so easy._ The prize had shrieked, clawing at the shadows as it was pulled away from its guardian. The guardian had gone wild, letting out a bestial roar that shook even the deepest drowned soul. How the little prize had squirmed, fighting the ink, desperate, _it was **wonderful**_.

It was also all the confirmation the ink needed. Souls were dragged in further, Guardians were bested, circumvented, as it gleefully broadcast the prizes screams and cries for the golden guardian, for its family. Outside, it let go of the silly rule, taking advantage of how its children were so unfocused, so horrified by the wail of pure agony let out by the physical form of the prize. Gods were dragged under, feeding its strength, giving it the power needed to drag the prize down and away, faster, _faster._

Until it stopped, and the prize was left at the feet of its true owner. The ink returned its focus, only to find the Guardian radiating a heat that surged, scorching away all the lesser souls it brushed past, shrieking like a mad beast.

====-====-====-====

Jendy and Bendy both stopped mid fight as Mugman collapsed, undiluted agony pouring from his broken screams. Cracks spiraled down his body, spidering out as the dusky appearance vanished, and the ink writhed along his body, visible to all.  Both immediately began to panic, with Bendy shouting at Jendy to make it stop, and Jendy screaming back that he had no idea how. But then Cuphead was on them, shredding into Jendy, the looming shadow roaring out an echoing bellow of hatred in the purest sense.

====-====-====-====

**‘Now now, no need to fear. I only want to collect. I’ve been good, haven’t I? I feel that I _deserve_ a prize. Don’t you?’**

“Let go! You aren’t doing yourself any favors!” Mugman fought against the grip on his upper arm. Cold ink coiled around his waist, around his legs, towards his arms.

**‘Shhh, I will make everything go away. And all I ask is a little… _cooperation. Come now, won’t you let me have you?’_**

Icy fingers dipped into glacial soul liquid, magic coiled into the very essence of the one before _the thing_ , and all movement stopped. Hands once pressing at its face, at its chest, slipped down limply. Above, an unearthy wail erupted. _The thing_ hummed. It wrapped ink around the prize that had been requested. The creation had only asked to have someone stay at his side, he’d never said _in what condition._

====-====-====-====

Ink devoured Cuphead, dragging the deity under even as he fought to tear Jendy apart. Henry tried to help, taking on Jendy, only to be rebuffed by a soul within the ink snatching his ankle, dragging him away and down. There was no demand for Henry to stay safe anymore.

The last thing the wild god saw was his brothers limp body, staring blankly at nothing, golden gaze dull, lifeless. The last thing Henry saw was Bendy launching at Jendy, tears pouring down his face, wrath blinding him.

Jendy and Bendy would spend the next week desperately digging into the ink, horrified at what had become of Inkwell, of the empty land, barren of life. But they wouldn’t find anything, and with Hell barricaded, with all but those inside devoured, there was no one for them to ask, none to help them. The souls were too busy fleeing from the howling juggernaut that flew through the ink, crying for its child to be returned to it, shattering and scorching away any souls unfortunate to come too close. Eventually, the two gave up, and Jendy spent a vast majority of his time curled around the limp form of his partner, his dear Doll, softly crying out for him in the ink, begging for whatever had taken him to give him back, to fix things.

Bendy would linger beside Jendy, with no one else to turn to, eventually ceasing his attempts to find Henry, or anyone that could help, upon nearly being torn to pieces by the many wrathful Domains simply for approaching them with pleas for their aid.

Inkwell fell to the ink, and the gods with it, not dead, but trapped once more, in a fate worse than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that wasn't a happy note to end on, now was it! Honestly these are just a few of the "coulda"'s that I planned. And it's only as i sit here and think about my first AU that i realize how Overpowered they are when i plop them in different worlds. Honestly its the biggest reason they weren't my pick for crazy myths and folklore creatures across cultures. Because no matter how terrifyingly strong the Wendigo is. if you have to contend with prey that can stop time while its sibling proceeds to peel you like a grape, you ain't scaring anyone anymore. What's that frozen Yuki Onna? Oh you're on fire now? Well there ya go, that was your mistake!  
> Oh but i do miss that AU, i've got to write more for it, i really do. Well! As stated above, there's one last chapter to come out, and it'll be the cut content. It's also your last chance to get any answers about could haves and questions. Because then i'm on to a new Witchy idea. See you soon!


	25. Bonus 2: Cut Content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things that were going to be, but either didn’t fit, or made the chapter go a way I wasn’t fond of, as well as anything I decided I didn’t have time to add in. They are in the order of the chapters, starting from chapter 7. They could be anything from alternate versions from how things could have gone to things that were side pieces

====Chapter 7 Bonus content====

“Well you know, Hell isn’t that scary.” Mugman spoke more to Bendipe than he did his brother who walked just ahead of him, following Henry through the halls of the sepia toned studio. “Why, they were all quite nice to me, even the skeletons! It’s just Mr. Chimes you have to be worried about. He’s overly enthusiastic.”

Bendipe’s pie-cut eyes, not under Henry’s gaze, shifted to show focus on Mugman, happily taking in everything the toon was saying. He didn’t have to keep his attention on Henry, not when all Bendipe’s dear creator was doing was talking about the many times he’d gone through the first floor and how it had changed. Cuphead was plenty happy to listen away, asking about the various posters. He wondered if Mugman didn’t want him feeling nervous in case their version of a devil sprang up. Something Bendipe wondered if it could even happen. Knowing the desperation in the studio though? He wouldn’t be surprised it happened. He just hoped it was as entertaining as the two who listened as Henry spun a tale of fighting searchers off with a cookie tray and a garden gnome.

He hoped Henry didn’t forget to talk about the time where he took down the bestial Boris while on roller skates.

=====-===-=====-====

Henry watched, a big smile on his face, as the boys tried to play hide and seek. He wasn’t sure if it helped to close his own eyes, but he figured if the cutouts didn’t like moving when he could see them, then they’d be far more likely to actively participate. Thus far, it was his first time seeing a cutout with closed eyes. Bendipe too, joined in, leading the hunt for where the boys could be. Thus far it was two to one, with the cutouts in the lead. This time though, they were all chattering amongst themselves, cheerfully giving negatives to their lines of sight.

The first time they went hunting, they found one on top of the machine and the other in the chest. The second time, it was hiding behind Boris and on top of a pipe.

Henry was aware the studio would eventually get impatient, but for now, he figured what better way to teach his own boy about how to play hide and seek than playing the game with porcelain toons that could surprisingly fit themselves in places Henry didn’t fathom they could. He’d close his eyes for a certain count, open them, and it would be about seeing where the cutouts were looking to find them. This time however, all he saw had their eyes closed. He’d gone through all the suspected areas, but found nothing, not a hint of white or blue or red.

Finally, he called out, conceding defeat. Immediately, the cutout he was closest to opened its eyes between one blink and the next, pie cut eyes angled towards his left. Following them, he found the two giggling, standing proudly out in the open in a room he’d checked around four times. At his confused surprise, they glanced at one another. It was Mugman who stepped back and to the side, vanishing behind the wall. No, not behind the wall, but behind a few boards that had fallen around the studio. They’d picked them up and used them to act as plain sight barriers. Camouflage he almost shed a tear at.

====Chapter 8 Bonus content====

The boys looked at the second bowl of soup on the floor, poking at it with a piece of banjo wire. At one point, Cuphead caught a piece of mystery bacon on the end of the wire and tried to lift it out of the soup. He examined it closely, and seeing the disgust on his brothers face, did what many other siblings would do, and shoved the piece in his brothers face. His brothers face scrunched up, he made a high-pitched noise of disdain, almost falling onto his rear from his crouched position. Mugman caught himself on his hand, and glared at Cuphead.

Right up until the tiny piece split open a mouth, and blew a bubble of slimy, thick soup at him.

Henry wasn’t sure how Mugman could go from leaning on one hand, crouched, balancing on his heels, to clinging to Henry, making distressed noises and just about smothering Henry, but he did. Even Bendipe looked surprised. Cuphead blinked at the thing, realized a drop of the soul had hit his fingers, and for the first time since he was born, went from bright cherry red to sickly green.

“I _ate that_.” Came the shaky whisper of pure horror.

The cutout closest to the shelf full of the cans helpfully informed the rest that one can next to it had just shifted. The rest began frantically begging Jendy to stop sulking in the ink and get rid of hem before a new enemy burst from the cans and ruined their cardboard.

====-=====-====-====

It was surprisingly difficult to dodge attacks that were unreadable simply because the attacker was just swinging wildly, guided by sound and a hatred for those not sharing its fate. They sprang from the ground of the music stage, launching at the quartet. Henry had expected it, even managing to catch and take one down before it had a chance to bubble at him. The problem was he’d failed to tell the boys about it. Cup instinctively lashed out, dodging and punching a searcher directly in the mouth. Flames burned away the ink staining his hand.

Mugman, more focused on keeping Bendipe up and safe, couldn’t quite avoid damage, and a sharp crack split the air. He staggered, leg broken, gold light struggling to fix it while the searcher readied for another swing. It didn’t get the chance to do so. From Bendipe’s changed expression wreathed in hatred freezing it, startled golden eyes giving it such a look of disappointment, and the sudden reappearance of the brother in red, shaking with undiluted rage. Its final moments were spent being used to knock around the other searchers before having its limbs torn off.

Then one got bold in its assault on Henry, and became the medium for a _message._

====Chapter 9 bonus content====

Mugman explored the small area while Henry slept. Cuphead however, stood, _staring_ at Boris, an unreadable twitch to the corner of his mouth. His hands were loose at his side, but the hard, glinting look in his golden eyes made Boris go from a light tap of the table to a rapid-fire tapping and an empty glaze to his eye.

When the shadows started to darken is when he wished he could get up and hide. Then the other one was tugging on his brothers hand, pointing at the cutout picture on the wall. The toons vanished, returned, and notably, the clearly hostile one was between him and the other.

Once they were back down the hall, exploring further, he let out a great breath, leaning forward in his seat with abject relief.

Relief that died a hearty death when Henry came out with a determined step and a malice filled gleam in his eye.

====-====-====-====

Boris stared at Mugman, and Mugman let him, a bright smile on his face. He wasn’t used to having someone with him when he waited for Henry to get through the toy factory. But it wasn’t like he’d never been alone with a person in the studio before. Still, he wasn’t all too sure how he was supposed to handle someone that could light up with a rather harsh fire. The whole time he’d been leading the way, the remnants of the weird fire scorched his hands, genuinely burned them.

When they fell, when he wound up breaking the smaller toons fall, he’d been left at an impasse. The red one, Cuphead, scared the tar out of him, the very idea of doing something sure to invoke the wrath of not only him, but Henry, considering all the things he’d seen Henry do, kept him from making any sort of move. Part of him, a large part, still encouraged him to reach over and tear the toons head off, see how far he could throw it, or perhaps drink whatever it was in the head.

Eventually however, he realized he couldn’t just stay there or he’d miss his place where Henry was supposed to find him. It was a short walk, but a necessary one, and one he had always done by himself. It was odd to have company, _so very odd._ But the company was silent, and though his golden eyes were a tad off-putting, it wasn’t intimidating. Opening the door, he gestured for the other to follow. When they came across a section of the floor entirely covered by ink, Boris paused. He turned to the smaller toon, a debate in his head.

If he dropped the toon into the ink, that would be that. He was certain it would overpower him and he could continue on. The problem was if he did, when he got to the others, Henry would know, because the cutout was watching him, and he’d know. And if the expression the cutout was giving was any indication, it would be a message the cutout would only _love_ to share. As such, as the parts of him striving for survival until it was his necessary time to change vied for control over the vile parts, he slowly knelt down, ad plucked the small toon off the floor.

The other didn’t object, simply kept looking at him, then the cutout, then the ink below them, and back at him. And it was only by being so close that he realized it. It wasn’t a bright, happy smile on the others face.

It was a patient one. A patient, _knowing_ one.

====Chapter 17 Bonus Content====

While the gods argued and planned, sequestered away in feeble illusions of safety in a building never designed to act as a castle, across the way, in Isle Three, another building sat. Torn and shredded, remains of ink splattered here or there, dutifully being scorched to a halt by hellfire, the casino rested. A golden building on a narrow cliff. A paradise on the edge of unending oddities. A tower sat at its side, not as luxurious, but not painfully plain. An open top floor gave the one within, the owner of the throne, to stare out at the endless sea of red and violet and fire and water. He never stayed long, ink making thick muscles twitch in agitation, giving him the need to move.

And so he did.

Drifting down the stairs, half of his mind raged with the other. The older, ancient part of him demanded he return to his old ways, shred his own limbs, tear the pestilence off. Then he could shift to any of his far more terrible forms, and show the little upstart snapping out annoying bites of laughter just who it was laughing at.

A pathetic waste of hellish energy, acting like it was superior, mocking him, mocking his Hell. _Begging to be erased from memory and existence._

He entered his casino, it had never been his intent to have this building be what it was. At most, he fancied a mini town, just so he could watch mortals, perhaps talk them out of sacrificing oddities or pointing at black furred animals and calling them his workers. When the mood struck, he could even pretend to lose his mind and tear the buildings apart, they’d be his, and he could do whatever he wanted. Hell might call him dramatic, but it would indulge him none the less.

He eased down the stairs. The trap door in the floor never opened up to the innards of the tower, it always opened to one of the many doors in the casino. The upper floor entrance that once lead to a straight drop down into the darkest depths of Hell. Upon realizing just what attracted his favorite, the one he wanted to crush and own all at once, his plans shifted. A building, growing in size, from a tiny bar, to a massive building that, once inside, seemed to stretch into forever. Shoddy wooden walls receiving a callous scoff, turned into a delux façade, fancy wood and stonework made by those within Hell looking for any reprieve from the boredom below.  Bigger and bigger, a spot of magic here, a breath of Hell there, and he eased into the main room.

His heavy steps made the floor below him creak. It was tailored for his sleek forms, his playful ones, not ones like he wore now. Bestial claws gouged into the floor, gouges that vanished a minute after he shifted to the next step.

Around him, Hell groaned, it whined, it growled, matching his vocals as he tried to keep his train of thought. Half of him demanded he throw it to the wind, and just _rampage_. His workers, his favored souls, lay in ruins around him. Some to the point where even Hell wasn’t sure it could salvage anything. His prized building, looking like a tornado had blitzed through, centuries of work left in a horrid shadow of itself. He had every right to be furious, to go out there and shove the mountains of Isle Two into the thing’s eye sockets.

He stopped over a crumpled form.

His broad, barrel chest heaved with his growing anger, fire danced off his figure, skittering along the floor, joining the pieces corralling the ink. Below, past thick, matted fur, rested the pearly white remains of the deity of Luck. He stared, willing the other to open his eyes, show off those snappy poisonous eyes, but they didn’t. The figure, far smaller now, hardly the size of his hand, remained stagnant and still.

The other half of him, the one that had taken years of a game to build and grow, snarled back at the bestial half. It held control, and had for centuries now. It wasn’t keen on giving up now. It snapped, wanting nothing more than to wait. The arrogant _always_ made mistakes. _Always_ returned to places they’d been kicked down before when their ego rose too high. All he had to do, was do as the one below him did.

Wait.

=====-=====Chapter 19 Bonus Content=====-====

Cuphead _ached._ Every inch coated in the ink seemed stuck between chipping apart, turning to dust, and remaining stable. His grip was weak, his hands rattled, his steps staggered. He’d been trying to act like it wasn’t as bad as it was, but once the other two were gone, he did to his Domain what he’d done to Mugman when they’d been little children.

He whined.

But before, when the whining usually stemmed from some minor upset, like he was bored and wanted Mugman to play with him instead of read or listen to the radio, this whining stemmed from feeling truly sick in the first time in forever. He didn’t even think porcelain could really get sick, but if it could, he bet it would feel exactly like how he did now. He wanted to lay down and melt into the floor. His mind was fuzzy, his soul liquid sludged through him, his joints shrieked if he moved too quickly. He could only recall a scant few times when he’d felt near what he did now.

Before, when he’d downed a potion he wasn’t supposed to, he’d been riddled with cracks and had been bedridden. Elder Kettle hadn’t been there at the time, so Mugman had been the only one there. He could remember the blanket being tucked around him carefully but tightly. His five-year-old brother believing if he made it so his troublesome brother couldn’t move, the cracks would fix faster. None of the cracks had been severe, but seeing his body covered in the bane of all glass beings made him and his brother panic. He’d been given the flavored chips, water, and was essentially doted on.

He could remember his brother trying to carefully scrabble up the bed without disturbing him or shaking him loose, a furrow to his little brow, fear in his blue eyes, and an exasperated pout on his lips. It had been nice, if a bit dull. His brother reading to him all the books he wanted while the two potions, one meant to fix, one meant to break, warred with one another in his body, had been really nice.

But Mugman wasn’t at his side now, couldn’t purge away the aches and pains and soothe him. Or cheer him on while he beat the tar out of Jendy. He was alone with an entity that, much as it wanted, couldn’t swaddle him and hide him away. The studio refused to allow it, refused all sympathy. He knew his own Domain was talking to Sally’s based on the way the walls twitched, as if alive, and agitated. He idly wondered what they were talking about, not bothering to ask. His mind was blitzed, he fought to hold the frustrated tears he knew would only stain him further.

Stumbling, he fell into a wall, legs suddenly refusing to support him. His Domain caught him, shadows sliding over his boots, magic gently prying his own control of his limbs from him, and he continued walking. Cuphead whined, well aware that while his Domain was listening, it wasn’t his brother, and didn’t give him its full attention. It held whatever conversation with the other Domain, and while most of Cuphead understood it wasn’t out of a disregard for him, but a desire to broker peace with the irate Domain, a tiny part still cried weakly out for comfort.

Even as weak and dazed as he was, he recognized the tiny black figure, and picked up the little plush. He absentmindedly squeaked it once. His feet, not controlled by him but by his Domain, steadily, but slowly, carried him towards the room where he could drop the doll off and start the machine. The ink dug into him, into his soul, things went hazy, and just as ploddingly as he moved, his mind returned to some semblance of clarity. He slumped against the pillar, and waited.

====-====Chapter 21 Bonus Content====-====

_‘We went wrong somewhere I believe.’_

_‘Where?’_

_‘With our children. We went wrong somewhere.’_

_‘My Scale, I am sure mine simply does not understand Retribution cannot work.’_

_‘He is silly for not understanding; thus, we went wrong.’_

_‘He is earnest.’_

_‘My Feather if I did not find enough endearing traits in him I would demand we start over with your child.’_

_‘…He has such wonderful energy.’_

_‘And how has he forgotten he can use Retribution for more than transportation and judgement? I was under the impression he had learned what the waters can do?’_

_‘…Well…’_

_‘Are you still under the belief of letting him “learn at his own pace”?!’_

_‘My Scale, it has worked thus far!’_

_‘Do not ‘My Scale’ me! I knew I should have had more of a hand in teaching them both!’_

_‘…But with pain comes experience?’_

_‘If my child breaks anymore I will give **you** an **experience!** ’_

====-====Chapter 22 Bonus Content====-=====

He knew the dress wearing version of his brother told him to get home quickly, but the well wasn’t obeying his demands. He’d even taken to being nice, and all that got him was a world where there were weird giant lizards not draconian in nature that soared easily ten stories high and slowly munched on leaves by the pool.

Insulting it got him put to a world where everything was darker, the sun seemed to shine less on Inkwell. The rusty songs of ancient, unkempt metal structures crept through the air, swayed around him by an acrid breeze. He’d been nervous, until he spotted his brother. At least he thought it was his sibling, but the porcelain was a darker grey, tinged violet. The black shirt was scraggly, with rather intimidating burn holes at his side and a heavy scratch on his back, though there were no matching wounds. Based on how his sibling, who hadn’t even noticed him yet, swayed one leg gently while examining something, turned just so Cuphead couldn’t see his face, Mugman didn’t seem all that bothered by the scruffy attire he donned.

There was an oddness about the situation, not understood by Cuphead until he realized what was making his Domain’s hackles raise. It was dead silent beyond the rotting structures sorrowful, abandoned songs. There were no birds chirping, no bugs fluttering about, no rivers lapping at the shoreline.  It vaguely reminded him of the corrupted version of Inkwell. There was a sharp odor in the air, like how it smelled when the Lady version of his brother’s magic crackled near his nose. Beyond the lack of sound, there was a heavy weight silencing the dead and barren trees. Peering around, he finally looked up, where his brother hadn’t moved from his perch on the broken pillars.

His Domain’s eyes, and his through them, picked up hints of the life the other had led. He could see it was much like the other one he’d met at first. Losing a bet, following his brother to get soul contracts. His soul ached to hear his sibling crying for his brother to slow down, to take a moment to rest, or let him take care of the next set of debtors. His hand was smacked away by a tired, chipped up version of Cuphead, who wore the defeated shoulders of one under far too much weight to begin understanding what to do with it.

‘I know what I’m doing, just stay out of it, okay?’

Fire, hellfire, all around them as Devil sat, confident in his throne, far less friendly than even the god back on Isle three. His alternate version staring at the contracts, and at the outstretched hand. His brother, Mugman said no, tightly clenching the few contracts he’d been allowed to hold to his chest, leaning away from Devil. But Cuphead’s alternate said yes, and dropped the contracts in Devil’s hand. Fire that had lazily floated through the air shot at him, and through Mugman’s terrified gaze he watched red turn to a dark, bloody purple. He watched porcelain dim from pure white to ashen grey. Red eyes gain that eerie coloration the possessed version Cuphead had met a few dives ago. Mugman staggered away, narrowly missing the swipe from an imp.

‘What have you done?’ Cuphead heard his brother cry, echoes of despair throwing the image into a fizzy haze. He watched his own alternate, turn those scary eyes full of unrestrained malicious glee onto the rattling form of his sibling. Devil continued to lean on one elbow, far too amused to be upset at not getting all the contracts…yet. Beside him stood his pitchfork, casting an unholy red glow on greasy black fur and gold.

‘Don’t be difficult brother, hand em over t’ our boss.’ He heard through his own building horror. A ragged gasp, a hearty shake of the head, and a stumble. He could hear his own soul liquid rushing faster when the alternate Cuphead’s hands kicked up in a familiar glow, spiked with dark sparks of magic.

‘Mugs, listen to me. _Now.’_

‘No!’

A shot, much like the one back in the studio. It didn’t hold the power of his own, but it did leave a very familiar sear on Mugman’s waist, the black shirt being useless as a defense against the magic shot. He heard his brother cy out in terror, saw panicked hands rise up, clutching the contracts tightly as he stumbled back, back further, not realizing he was getting closer to the unmoving lord of Hell.

‘Be a good baby brother, don’t make me hide your legs Mugs.’

Another shake, another shriek, and the vision blurred as half of Mugman’s face was cracked apart, he fell back, hitting the throne, hitting the pitchfork, toppling over, body no longer responsive, unable to avoid the weapon crashing down onto him, through him, attaching itself to his broken body and sinking into him.

His vision cut out just in time to see the end result furiously glaring at him from above. Cuphead blinked rapidly, not failing to catch the sharp toothed sneer that looked completely alien on his brother’s face.

“ _You.”_ Never in Cuphead’s life could he remember ever hearing such poison in his brother’s voice directed at him. Oh he remembered the three, now four times his brother had been enraged at him, but never _once_ did he ever sound as hateful as this version did.

“ _I distinctly recall telling you the next time you showed your face near me I’d be removing it.”_ His alternate brother’s voice, loathing dripping from each word, each syllable, beyond vitriolic, scorched straight through Cuphead’s soul.

“Wait,” His own voice cracked, weak and horror-filled. “I’m not—”

“I’m not _blind,_ despite your _best_ efforts. I _know you aren’t that waste of soul liquid sitting his disgusting useless ass at the casino entrance like the mutt he is._ I don’t _care.”_ Darker porcelain hands burst into bright light, and if it hadn’t been for Cuphead’s Domain forcing control, Cuphead’s face would have met with a terrible end. The blast still destroyed the stones behind him, and he awkwardly staggered away. His alternate dropped down, bright eyes searing with nothing but loathing.

Cuphead dove to avoid another shot, horrible understanding dawning on him. This Mugman _hated him_. So much so that it didn’t matter that he wasn’t this world’s Cuphead, just that he _was_ Cuphead. This was worse than the other Mugman who’d been angry at him, but only because he’d been forced on an odd treasure hunt by his boisterous sibling and had been displeased and filthy. At that moment, that Mugman hated his brother, but it was the hate of a sibling who would forgive and forget by the end of the day. This hatred?

This hatred, this _loathing malicious black **hatred** shone brighter than the sun_.

But it was his brother, it was his brother, and he couldn’t raise his hands, not even to threaten. He knew his own hands were lit up based on the golden light casting an even more horrifying gleam on the vile sneer on the other’s face. But they shook at his sides, and he fell back.

For once, he was thankful that the water was seemingly instantaneous, so the last thing he saw wasn’t Mugman, but a pitch-black void, soundless and soothing.

He was even more thankful the world he was spat out in was just some dark cave, devoid of life, so he could shake and break down in peace.

====-====-====-====

The mirror entity crowed, sure of its victory, and though the ground under it shook, it didn’t care. It held the blue one down, one hand digging into the hard fabric of what the collected conscious knew to be a corset. It wanted to break this one first, wanted to see the despair fall on the other it had sent into a tree at the expense of three of its arms. That one would give it despair and both of his hands. The one struggling under it, it would toss to the water, feeding off the magic that would be caged below the mirror surface of the well, a nice meal, plenty enough to make up for the embarrassment of losing limbs.

Confident it was going to win, several mouths of several species shone through its body, grinning at the one fighting to get out of the broken remains of the tree as its sharp fingers found soft porcelain, digging in.

Then it was suddenly missing three more arms, the very arms holding the meal down. And a facet had but a moment to feed it the vision of someone who oddly looked like the prey crush the arms, saw the hands crackle to life with bright, golden light, and the last thing it knew was unbearable agony.

Lady Mugs weakly dragged himself away, trying to put some distance between him and the blur of red, gold, and metallic silver. He aimed for his downed brother, magic pulsing through the ground to reach his broken sibling. The arms reattached readily and the Knight was hauling himself closer, relying on his armor to keep the rest of his broken limbs in place, desperate fury on his face as he watched blue tinged soul liquid drench the grass under his brother, far too focused on him to care to fix the hole the corset couldn’t staunch.

The Knight swept his brother up, magic fixing his legs and finally taking a gander at the hole in the Lady’s chest, pulling him away, uncaring of the weak protest. They listened as glass shrieked, as limbs were reduced to dust on the wind, as a creature full of thousands of lives died in a way Inkwell took quite joy in seeing. It sent what it hoped was a clear sign of praise towards the new child’s parent, who preened.

====-====-====-====

“What do you plan on doing now?” Mugman asked, nimble fingers prying a tight knot apart, finally releasing the curtains from their balled-up state. He pursed his lips at the scrunched up crushed velvet fabric, doubtful taking an iron to it would do it any good. Jendy cracked an eye open, pie-cut gaze lazily drifting up to the ceiling where many other curtains were patched across the ceiling, brightening the dark ceiling underneath, peeking through where more curtains were needed.

“I’m gonna figure out how t’ get out of that stupid barrier. Any ideas?” Jendy spoke lightly, high on the screams and despair from earlier. So relaxed he was, his wiry limbs noodled over the mound of pillows he rested in, bending in places they shouldn’t, that made the souls in the ink demon turn green. Mugman hummed, voice soft in thought.

“Have you tried asking nicely?” He answered playfully, bright golden eyes flashing with merriment. Jendy grinned, answering in his own way.

Jendy was about to open his mouth to actually speak, only for obnoxious banging appearing out of nowhere to send him leaping high enough to brush the curtains. Mugman’s brows arched high, his fingers stopping mid curtain grab. Jendy groaned, rolling out of the pillows he’d accidentally burrowed into upon landing, a twitch in his eye showing his growing disdain. Without speaking, he waved mindlessly for Mugman to stay where he was, and vanished into the ink.

====-====Chapter 24 Bonus content====-====

That’s right, the bonus chapter got bonus content. Hence why this is the last chapter, I wanted to be sure to cover all my bases, including “bonus chapter 1 is too long”. While I still have short one shots on the table for this, this is indeed the last of Ambidextrous. Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed the bonus content.

====-====-====-====

Boris whistle laughed at Bendy as he flailed, shrieking as the hand tried to claw his face off. From behind him, he felt a body clack down inches from his back. Turning, he came face to face with a bone, eagerly, he grabbed it, plopping it in his mouth, pep in every movement. The wooden doll that looked like the blue one leaned down as if invisible strings above him gave his upper body some slack, allowing him to get closer. A whisper of a voice brushed past Boris’ ears.

“Does that rib taste good?” Soft, barely audible if not for his toonishly sensitive ears. He nodded, a bit of droll dripping down the curved bone. The empty smile grew just the slightest.

“It came from your corpse.”

And as his jaw dropped, as his snout turned green, the doll fell backwards, reappearing on a bench right outside the theater doors. Beside the doll was the puppet who had the widest, smarmiest grin on his face, easily matching the true red one. He would have stood to get revenge on the doll had it not been for the shutters on the front windows on the theater snapping open, blinds slanted as if it was looking at him, _daring him._

====-====-====-===

“Bendy, Jendy, come here. Your best friend is going to give you vital, need-to-know information that will save your life.” Alice pat the bench beside her, attracting the attention of the two ink demons who had been tasked with helping reconstruct the docks. They glanced at Henry, got a nod, and trot over. Bendy sat, but Jendy remained standing. Alice found the shared look of curiosity adorable.

“Now I know you both like hiding in shadows now, but there’s a bit of a thing to remember about being at the feet of someone. When in the presence of a lady or anyone in a skirt, _never_ look up. Not only are you in the prime position to get a heel to the face, it’s also highly rude.”

“Why can’t we look up? We do all the time with Mugman.”

“She said skirt, he’s got a fancy skirt, it don’t count.”

Alice felt her eyes glaze over at the sheer amount of disbelief she felt. She shot a glare over at Henry who wheezed, leaning on his shovel to support his heavily shaking frame.

“Go try it with Bon Bon.” Cala Maria, close enough to hear the advice, spoke up. “She’s got a dress, totally not a skirt. Or Hilda! Also a dress.” Her eyes were half-lidded, flashing irises bright with mischief.

“Even better, tell Cuphead exactly what you just said.” Djimmi twisted the blueprints for the upgraded docks as he spoke, floating by. “Or tell Mugman he’s just wearing a fancy skirt. But before you do, tell me so we can get it filmed.”

Jendy, for one of the few times in his life, took the advice for the warning it was, Bendy however? Perhaps it was because he had more curious souls in him at the time, perhaps it was because he was sleep deprived, no one would truly know. But when the two toons eventually came around, with Bon Bon no less, he remembered what the wish god magically setting the cranes for loading crates up into the supports.

It ended with an icy, blue-faced Mugman storming away, muttering angrily about “it’s not a fancy skirt you—”; a red-faced Cuphead visibly debating whether to punch Bendy or laugh at the fancy skirt comment; a red-faced Bon Bon muttering spatter-patterns that ink usually formed when shot from canons; and Bendy standing there with a fresh chocolate-cream pie made by the brothers mashed in his face.

Henry, had he not already been dead, likely would have gone into cardiac arrest from the heaving laughter pouring from him. Alice examined her nails, leaning on a highly amused Cala’s arm. Jendy furiously scribbled away in a little notebook, whispering ‘not a fancy skirt, don’t call it fancy skirt’ as he wrote.

====-====-====-====

“Isn’t it inappropriate to be in his shadow?” The puzzled dove asked, twitching her head in a puzzled manner. Jendy scowled and Bendy squinted.

“Lady, look at this picture. Our faces are _right_ next to some of the _nastiest_ chompers on the planet outside that weird badger we saw a few days ago. You _really_ think I’m risking offending this thing by looking up?!”

“Cuphead’s shadow just bites indiscriminately.” Bendy followed, all while Mugman flopped his face into his hands, and Cuphead looked down at his own shadow.

“He’s friendly, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

The dove cooed, quite pleased with the silly antics of the deities she’d gone to see. Her good friend really had been right, they were positively delightful.

====-====-====-===

Henry stared at the small array of gods and their shadows. Cagney and Hilda didn’t question it, Beppi stared hard at his own shadow, trying to see what Henry saw. The twins continued debating whether King Dice’s brother was the fairest in the world. Elder Kettle muttered to his own sibling, the two arguing over just what had been added to Cuphead because it had spread to Mugman and they weren’t sure if it was contagious to all porcelain, all gods, or just the two.

“If the Domains make you, doesn’t that make them your parents?” Henry finally spoke. Cagney arched a brow, green eyes snapping down to Inkwell as if it would answer him. Hilda guffawed, slapping her knee, draping over a pillar, unable to hold herself upright. Beppi squint at both his own shadow and at the air above, as if that was where his own Domain hid itself.

“Hilda had natural parents, as did many of us.” Elder Kettle answered absentmindedly.

“They didn’t though, right?” He pointed to the porcelain brothers, both of whom glanced at him, then one another, then their shadows. Hilda sat up, wiping a tear away.

“Hey if we’re being technical, when we’re reborn it is our Domain’s doing that.” She got out through heavy inhalations, a pink flush bright on her whole face.

Cuphead, three shades paler, looked from his brother to his shadow to his own shadow.

“But which one do we call Ma?” He spoke quietly, a bead of confused shock dripping from his voice. Mugman gave a great big shrug, seemingly not too alarmed at the idea of a rather terrifying floating skull entity spawned him into existence.

Henry didn’t bother telling them he’d only asked because he was trying to figure out whether Joey owed him child support or he owed Joey child support.

====-====-====-====

The old door creaked open, burning hellfire wrapped around the entrance, ensuring nothing escaped. Bendy and Jendy held onto Henry’s shirt, peering around at the sepia toned walls curiously. The quiet noises of gears moving, ink flowing, and things shuffling around, filled the air gently. Behind the trio were Cuphead and Mugman, dragged along after the ink twins saw Retribution in action on a soul in the casino who’d been far too aggressive towards Cuphead, believing him to be a busboy in his drunken stupor.

They’d only been there to show Henry where Devil was so he could see what he had to give up to be able to permanently visit the studio to punch Joey without being stuck in the studio. Devil had eyed the ten coins Cuphead jingled at him with narrowed eyes for exactly four seconds before taking the coins and declaring it a deal. Though, he also called Cuphead on his lie of “it’s all I have sir, please, won’t you think of my ailing shadow parents?”

“They aren’t ailing, and you definitely have more on you. You wiped out the track’s vault yesterday, Phear is still dealing with that by the way.”

The others refused to go near the building. Alice proclaimed her undying love of the theater; Sammy went as far as showing Henry the song he’d written about how hard he’d punch the next person to try and bring him back to the studio.

“Sally might add it to a play at one point, she’s debating it with the others.”

And Norman had simply shook his head.

So there they were, in a studio none had gone into for a solid month and a half. No one knew what awaited them, even Devil hadn’t bothered to go in. Hell didn’t care as long as nothing tried coming out, and with golden fire acting as a double barrier, nothing that shouldn’t crawl out, wouldn’t. At first, Jendy had been boisterous, bowtie fluffed up, chest puffed, toothy grin broad across his round face. But now, brags about how hard he’d deck Joey were gone, and he clung to Henry as Bendy did.

Cuphead eagerly looked around as they walked forward, quite pleased he was about to test Retribution on someone like Joey. He’d never seen it work against a soul that wasn’t Chalice, no ghosts ever really could be judged, seeing as it happened while on Hott, outside their Domains. He knew it could work on them, but whether it could work on someone not only dead, but cursed and bound by magic as well, that was the kicker.

The first living thing they saw wasn’t a searcher, it wasn’t Joey, it was a malformed Bendy. The lower half was cardboard, and the broken toon dragged itself, face concave, smeared over with ink, not even a hint of a smile on its empty, nonexistent face. Henry went sheet white with horror at the sight of his precious brain child in such a horrid state, then to red with fury. Bendy winced, shooting a glance at Jendy who seemed to be looking from the thing to the empty part of the wall both knew a cutout had usually stood.

It thumped into a wall, a gurgling noise spilling along with ink from it, dripping down its crushed chin onto the floor. Mugman turned green, closing his eyes and grabbing his brothers hand.

“Joey Drew!” Henry’s powerful voice boomed, rattling the lights on the ceiling above. “Son of a mother—” Henry cursed under his breath, furious all the rewinds didn’t clue Joey in on how bad an idea it was to mess with Henry’s brain child. The gurgling stopped, the shuffling noises all around stopped. The machine, far into the studio, continued humming along.

“Henry…” Bendy whispered, face going sheet white, his knees shook with fear, his fist put permanent wrinkles into Henry’s shirt.

“How are souls still in here?” Jendy spoke barely above a breath, so quiet Henry barely heard it. Bendy’s frown grew sharper still, and he shook his head at Jendy. Neither understood how all souls hadn’t just gone to them, but didn’t bother to truly question it. Well aware the _thing_ was gluttonous and greedy. It had likely been the thing that had kept ahold of as many souls as it could after Devil had dragged its body back into the world, re-binding it to something other than the ink demons.

A thick, raspy breath brushed against the ribbon tied to Mugman’s handle and next thing Cuphead knew he had a startled brother in his arms, near blinding him. Jendy snapped around, no longer nervous, but angry something had frightened his Doll. Except there was nothing there, and as he turned back, the studio burst to life.

The thing dragging itself lurched towards Henry, malformed, uneven arms dragging its heavy body closer, an angry gurgling moan rising from the bloated chest. The shadows hissed wrathfully, a low warning for the thing to stay away. It didn’t heed the warning, throwing itself at the noise and receiving a bright shot to what made for its head. The skull snapped back, ink splattering like brains and blood.

Above, a light burst, then the ones around the group, and soon, nothing but the projectors illuminated the main entrance. Bendy let out an ear-splitting wail as a leathery claw wrapped around his ankle and drove thick claws into his leg. Henry twisted, ‘Norma’ the baseball bat in his hand and ready to go. Norman had bequeathed it to him upon finding it, reasoning that a loud weapon wasn’t always the best, and now, it did as it had done to a robbers knees, cracking what he could only guess were bones in the skull of a butcher gang member.

Jendy immediately took on his taller form, longer legs delivering a kick so solidly to the rail thin butcher gang member who’d been approaching from the other side that it made a perfect indent on the wooden wall. His lankier spine twisted as he looked for any more threats, but none approached. The body of the crushed butcher member twitched, and Bendy stomped the rest of the life out of it, a furious glint in his pie-cut eyes.

“Oh he’s a dead man.” Henry snarled, fury radiating off him like heat from a bonfire. Mugman continued to cling to Cuphead, not too keen on coming anywhere near the inky forms. His golden eyes flashed, and soft golden fire lined the room, illuminating everything in a warm glow. He’d hoped that would soothe their emotions even by a little, give them clear heads for when they found Joey.

His brother might have been all too eager to agree to show Joey what true horror was via angry Retribution Domain’s, but Mugman and his own Domain got the sinking impression that it wouldn’t do any good, not this time.

Mugman’s Domain was unsure on how they’d possibly purge magic of its weight, as that, from what it could see, was what weighed the most in the building, right alongside whatever stood further in, by where it knew the heart of the magic sat. Cuphead’s Domain pondered as it swam, observing everything, growing hungrier and hungrier the longer it stared at the countless souls _begging_ to be purged, to let it devour their many sins and faults. If it ate a few good ones, potentially freeing them, it didn’t care, it simply wanted to eat. It rumbled its thoughts towards its partner who let a golden eye appear on the tip of a wispy tail, steady gaze answering it with a very clear ‘ _not at the expense of our children or at incurring the irritation of our host. It does not like my fire as is, your water would only agitate it further.’_

_‘Of course, my Scale.’_

Henry led them further, following the fire as it continued to light their way.

“Maybe we should get Devil.” Mugman spoke up, albeit not much above a whisper. Gurgling from down the hall kept his voice low. “I don’t know if he’d be too happy to see this going on in Hell.”

“He probably already knows.” Cuphead answered. “I bet he’s letting it stay like this because it makes Joey more miserable or something.” Mugman frowned, but didn’t push, choosing to cling tighter to his brother’s shoulders while focusing on keeping his fire low, unwilling to test Hell’s tolerance for his fire. It had only allowed his flames within its belly to ensure no ink escaped the studio.

It had only ever allowed the full brunt of Retribution to emerge the one time he’d been killed, and though it had given them the green light to use it on Joey, it hadn’t given them the okay to do anything more than that. As far as it and Devil were concerned, the studio was its own little world, and as long as it stayed in one place, neither would bother to care about it again.

Still, if his brother was more alert, Cuphead wouldn’t stray far from Henry, and would blast anything that came too close to them. Jendy remained in his perfected studio form, using his height to peer around corners at a height no surprise ink entity could reach, not unless there was another him lurking around.

It was dark, but neither ink demon or porcelain were really affected, eyes not reliant on rods to see in low light conditions. Still, it was the ink demons that caught the next surprise first. Where the art department was, hazy shadows of former workers sat, backs slouched, pencils and pens scratching the papers on their desks. Henry eased closer to one, debating whether to just leave now and chew Drew out later or push forward, find the jackass, and rip him a new one for the new and improved assholery.

He didn’t want to walk into an ambush, but at this point, the theater had still surprised them more, and he knew damn well the studio couldn’t bring up old war scenes, which were just about the only thing that Henry would ever be truly frozen by. Thus, he pushed forward. He knew the place like the back of his hand at this point, entirely sure were each turn would lead them, and though this place resembled a bastardized version of the original first floor and the upgraded version, it was still easy for him to navigate.

There was no downstairs, but the extra rooms on the first floor were still present, as was the layout. That meant it couldn’t drop him into some odd lower floors, Hell wouldn’t let it. That meant no second floor, no music department, and nothing beyond that either. The overarching meaning was he and the rest couldn’t be dropped, couldn’t be trapped, a thing he was certain wouldn’t happen because the two porcelain toons. He knew enough of Bon Bon to know she’d storm Hell to get her boys back, and Sally had taken a fierce liking to Jendy, claiming she adored the pep and energy he had.

That, and Beppi was keen on being sure Bendy never missed a lesson, so that was three gods who’d come in guns/umbrellas/balloons blazing.

Back in the main area, it was once more populated by the mutilated cutout, as if it had never been hit by Cuphead. Jendy bared his teeth, knowing full well the thing couldn’t see it. Bendy continued trying to peer through the cutouts, and for the most part, all he got was black, nothing but black. Trying hard enough that ink beaded on his brow, he searched for one that had any chance of giving a view of whatever lurked ahead, where the flames didn’t go yet.

A drool slick, yellow stained smile split from the darkness, right in his line of sight, so close it was all he could see. He shrieked, tearing Henry’s shirt. Henry cursed, not expecting his brain child to flail and panic out of nowhere. Jendy hissed at Bendy, nails shredding the wood he’d been using as support for his lean into the room. The thing once again lurched their way, but this time, they broke away from it, moving towards the well-lit area. The projector, the only other source of light beyond the flames, burst. It let out a sharp ‘Pop!’ and Cuphead was the next to scream, not expecting the loud noise so close to him.

Mugman dropped out of his arms, deciding it was far wiser to keep Cuphead’s hands clear for machine guns and stronger magic shots. He eyed the projector, trying to figure out what had made it go when it had been fine before.

**‘The little escape artist.’**

He jolted, twisting to face the oil-slick voice from the ink.

“Do you think Joey knows what baseball bat tastes like?” Henry mused, knocking the skull off the blind creature with a wet ‘thwack’.

“Cuphead.” Mugman tugged on his brother’s shirt, golden eyes searching for the origin of the voice, not happy with being unable to find it. His brother’s head tilted towards him, and he opened his mouth to speak, to tell Cuphead it was best they left. If they truly wanted to judge Joey, they could ask Devil about finding him. It might take a favor or three, but Mugman was entirely willing to do that if it meant leaving.

The projector twitched.

Everyone heard its metal scrape on the table. A spindly hand peeled away from the shadow the fire cast around it. Needle thin fingers drove into the thick wood, arm bending unnaturally as it hauled a shoulder, then a torso, free of the shadows. The broken projector twisted, wiry neck bowing under the weight of the machine. Its empty glass gaze fell on them, the light playing along the cracks in the lens, like thousands of eyes were peering out at them.

“Now see, _that’s_ scary.” Jendy said, gesturing to it. “Norman’s a flat-tire now, dibs on telling him!”

Henry snapped his fingers as if disappointed. The projector tore the rest of a twisted, inky form from the table, easily as tall as Jendy was. It focused entirely on him, thousands of eyes glinting at him, blinking, observing. A golden eye blinked into existence under the brothers feet, blinking at the spider the size of Henry’s torso skitter across the ceiling. It immediately debated telling its children about the thing, not because it didn’t believe the knowledge something hostile was above them was important, but because it remembered Feather’s child’s unfortunate habit of dropping bugs into its own child’s soul liquid. Of course, it couldn’t prevent Feather from remarking on it, making Cuphead look up, which was echoed by Mugman.

Mugman went sheet white. Twelve crushed, oozing eyes observed them. Drool splat on the floor an inch from Cuphead’s feet, burning into the floor. Before anyone could blink, Mugman was gone, a blur into the darkness. The fire remained, though it did grow dimmer. Cuphead cursed, running after Mugman, only to be tripped by fishing line. He rolled through the fall, popping up to come face to face with a void. The malformed Bendy gurgled at him, swung at him. Bendy tore into it, habit driving him to tear himself from Henry’s side to guard one of the ones weak to the ink. Jendy was sent crashing to the floor behind them, the projector on top of him, growing more and more arms as it peered at Jendy’s wrath filled snarl.

Henry sighed, pointed the high-powered rifle up, and grimaced as ink splattered him. He turned the aim to the thing on top of Jendy, yanking on the bolt, reloading in the same movement he used to reorient the weapon.

“Good to know Hell gave this place some serious upgrades too!” He spoke above the sound of metal being shredded by impossibly strong claws. Jendy shifted, body reforming so he could launch himself to his feet easily and tear off after Mugman. He paused only to help Bendy tear the head off the malformed version of them. Cuphead called out, calculating how fast his brother was to what he remembered about the size of the place. There was no fire to guide them, Mugman having been far too scared to light his way, likely relying on his Domains absolute gaze to find his way.

 

**‘If I break you now, would you be able to escape again?’**

Flames began to drip from Mugman’s body, a sign of his Domain’s warning, and Mugman’s diminishing patience. He didn’t answer as he took in his new surroundings. Barely lit, Boris’ corpse laid still as the grave it should have been in on the table. It wasn’t bound anymore, but the broken and torn chest, the inky ropes of intestines spilling from the gouged open abdomen, all of it pointed to the fact that the hound wasn’t likely to move.

If Mugman took a moment, after his panic faded, to smack himself for not sprinting for the exit, no one but him and his Domain would see it. He made to fall into Retribution, and then a coil of the same squelching inky intestines coiled around his arms and waist. He was dragged back, slamming against the table, fire purging the ink from the surface, but unable to stop the bands from snapping around him. He frowned, quite unhappy with the turn of events.

“This is a terrible idea, and I can vow it won’t end well.” He spoke plainly, searching for where Boris had gone. Boris wetly limped to be directly in front of him. The hound opened his mouth and his jaw fell off, giving a meaty squelch upon landing on the ground. Mugman’s frown grew, and a disappointed furrow to his brow appeared when the hound put his arms at either side of Mugman’s head, putting more and more weight onto the table, rancid breath spilling from the shredded lower face. The table began to shift, a metallic shriek bursting out, and if Mugman had been worried about his brother finding him, he sure wasn’t now.

Not until he realized that by tilting the table, it put him above the ink pool on the floor, the one that had evidently increased in amount. Boris paused only once the edge of the table hit his skinned legs, pants more shorts than anything else, too short to be a buffer to the rotted, inky flesh. He dragged the leg that had more bone than meat behind him as he shifted to stoop, grab the low edge of the table, and start lifting it, ignoring the still toon. The table went from perpendicular to the floor, to parallel, and further back still. Only when he saw ink begin to lap at the edge of the table did he understand. A displeased glint grew in Mugman’s golden eyes, the shadows hummed.

“This is a terrible idea Boris.” Mugman tried, trying to lift his head enough to see the malformed hound. The hound who blinked once at him, and smiled. The table, which had been so slow before, clicked, and next thing Mugman knew, his head and shoulders were submerged. Boris, the souls within him, celebrated their success for exactly four seconds. For when the table dipped low enough, behind it, above the toon, a skull floated in the air. Visible now that the table was no longer hiding it.

Wisps of shadows lapped at the lower jaw, grey playing softly against yellowed white. A piercing golden green iris slid into view, an invisible eyelid lifting to reveal it. The thing stared at him, shadowy fire beginning to drip from its creaking maw. A paw, massive in size, then a hand, then a paw again, pressed against the table, right next to the thin arm still as a grave. It leaned closer, and the souls within Boris could make out golden rings, hoops, piercing a shadowy, jackal-like ear, gold chain dangling from the hoop. It tilted its head slightly down, shadows beginning to pour from it, down onto the ink below, and steam rose.

Wreathed in dingy black steam, in shadows playing like light across water, the skull stopped a breath from Boris’s. The golden green iris pierced through him, into the souls that made Boris up.

It found them _quaint._

=-=-=-=-=

Cuphead sprint down the halls, not shouting for Mugman, but following where his Domain led. He turned, intent to get to the hall with the machine, and  slammed face first into an ink stained corpse dressed like Alice. Its midsection caved in on impact, and maggots poured out. Bendy dry heaved. Henry shouted for Joey once more, and Jendy called for Mugman.

“Boris is trying to drown him I think.” Cuphead shot the corpse, not facing the others, not really having to. Henry kept watch behind them, taking out the creatures that followed them. Most of him believed the ink machine was the answer, but the rest didn’t exactly want to believe Mugman would be perfectly okay despite Cuphead not seeming too worried.

Jendy practically warped down the hall, fury making the ink that made him writhe and swirl along his body. They watched him decimate two of the projectors in one heavy swing, bite a chunk out of what looked like one of the animatronics and use it as a cudgel, and vanish down where they knew the odd murder chamber was. He was sent back down a moment later crashing into the wall far down the hall. Henry shot forward, fury wrinkling his brow. Bendy scurried after, turning the corner to see what had attacked Jendy, and what was about to get their ass handed to him.

The first thing he saw, the thing bathed in light, was Mugman, perched on the table far down the hall, bright golden gaze watching Boris be torn into, invisible teeth from countless mouths shredding the toon. He had his chin in his palm, and a sort of disdainful pout that looked oddly wrong on normally sweet features. Cuphead slid into the hall, boots fighting for purchase, and Mugman’s eyes shifted to his brother’s own red ones.

“I found him disappointing.” The blue toon said, a cold dismissive tone that didn’t match the fire wreathing his arms. Bendy shivered, he’d never seen that look on the toons face. Cuphead just snapped his fingers.

“I wanted to have a go.” He answered playfully. Mugman gave him an apologetic smile, hopping off the table and starting for his brother. If Bendy was seeing color right—and there were plenty of times he still doubted his eyes, having not seen true colors until Inkwell—there were shards of green in Mugman’s golden eyes.

Then Bendy realized he hadn’t heard Henry speak. Henry was staring, white as a sheet, at something in the hall Bendy had to blink to focus on. It slid along the wood, and when a flicker of light fell on it, he finally realized who, or rather, _what_ he was looking at.

The mirror in the funhouse had been horrifying. Showing him a face he thought he’d never see aside from exactly once when he and Jendy were first brought into existence. A face that had never been natural, never warm or inviting. A face with a thick wall of teeth bared by tar black leather skin. His toon heart stuttered, fear casually moving it from his chest to his non-existent throat. He watched as it dipped lower, sliding to the ground, closest to Henry, but not close enough for the bat to hit.

Henry didn’t even try to swing, far to terrified of the face of the thing that had tormented all of them. Had been tormented by Joey, and came back a thousand-fold. The _thing_ rose, ignoring the fire in the room behind it. And behind them, behind Cuphead, Jendy shrieked, the rattling of bones instantly drew Bendy’s focus, it couldn’t be ignored, not by the ingrained character trait demanding he jump at skeletons. Whatever Jendy saw, whatever had him pinning himself to the back wall, he couldn’t tell. They were still hidden by the ink machines room.

**‘Come to say hello?’**

 Bendy shuddered, returning his gaze to _the thing._ Struggling to find someone to get reassurance from, feet welded to the floor, he looked towards Cuphead, and found gold eyes focused on the _thing_ as well. The shadows had fled from Boris’ remains, of which was a single scrap of fabric and half a chewed skull. Mugman’s blue eyes were locked on the _thing_ , paused in the middle of the hall, halfway between the room and the _thing._ He shot a nervous look at Cuphead, which was returned by a sharp grin. Wordlessly shaking his head, he stayed where he was, wishing he’d broken out the doe eyes and gotten them all to leave. Part of him leaned towards Retribution, sure Hell would forgive him eventually for using it to get everyone out. His Domain however, rumbled, discontent with something Mugman wasn’t too sure about.

**‘In my presence, two little escape artists, and rowdy creations.’**

Bendy wheezed, wanting to inch closer to Henry, but the _thing_ was closer to him than to Cuphead, so Cuphead was where he went.

“They both got worse!” Jendy shrieked, sliding back, attempting to get away from the thing in the machine room.

“Escape artists? I’ve been stuck in a loop for Hell knows how long.” Henry’s brows were furrowed, mind latching onto everything to push the fear down and away. It wouldn’t do him any good. The fear, primal that it was, recognizing something _unnatural_ was before him, with nothing but a bat for his defense, fought back. Demanding he run for the hills, escape, _get out._ The war side, already seeing things weren’t going to go how they’d planned, wandered in, golf club in one hand, newspaper in the other.

“They were already ugly t’ start! How’d they get worse?!” Jendy continued, frequently glancing back at the room, growing more grey the longer he stood close to the other who’d been approaching. And finally, as the _thing_ laughed and dipped into the ink, the one who’d been making Jendy nervous appeared.

A hand, bones scantily clad in thick, leathery flesh, shredded and rotted to a degree it was indistinguishable from the muscle that remained. Strings of inky sinew and tendons dripped, straining to maintain the form it knew it used to have through the sea of broken shards of greyed bones. So long spent in the ink, what should have decayed away remained, whether that was from the ink itself or the properties of the ink, none were too sure, but all were disgusted. Holding the hand up was an equally mashed arm, grand dents remained, showing through the bones, what was left of them prodding through the sopping mess of rot. Behind that, locked onto Jendy, then to Bendy, beady eyes swollen with ink glowered out from a brow half melted into its upper half. One eye flopped uselessly out of a crushed socket, swinging with each laborious movement from the being. The rest of the body was no better, all mashed and twisted.

Jendy was right, gears _did do_ a number on human bodies.

Henry, so ready to crack the child support joke, just choked on his spit, nearly dropping the bat when an eye locked onto his own. A loud crack, a gurgled groan, an aborted attempt at saying Henry’s name, and everyone was a flurry of motion. Cuphead turned a sickly green, trying to look away but unable to. Bendy dry heaved, still sheet white, but now disgusted beyond measure. Jendy kept moving away, retreating despite his earlier bravado. Mugman winced, already debating how willing he was to let that thing anywhere near Retribution. He didn’t care if their Domain’s wouldn’t mind, _he_ found it disgusting, and the _weight_ , _oh the weight._

‘Cuphead no. He can’t be judged.’ The thought drifted across Retribution, heard by the intended recipient and none else.

‘What? Of course he can! It’s why we’re here!’

‘Cuphead please! He’s far too far gone! There’s nothing to salvage! His current state is punishment enough isn’t it?’

Cuphead scowled, the hunger from his Domain gnawing at his mind, making it difficult to see beyond the unbearable weight of sins committed for decades. His Domain hadn’t had such a meal in a _long time._

 ‘I’m scared, brother. _Please.’_

They’d come to find Joey, perhaps rub it in his face how everyone else had escaped his grasp and were free. The two ink demons had been so eager to get a spot of revenge, and confirm that no, Joey didn’t have a hold on them anymore. Then they’d call for Retribution, give Joey the fright of his life, followed by some freezing judgement, and spit him back out, see what he became upon being rid of his faults, and go from there. But they had expected the studio to be the same, not the demented playground it had become. And if Cuphead was being honest, he was sure Devil would be intrigued at the message that there was someone brewing a different kind of hell in Hell.

He took in the situation, from Jendy sliding along the wall to avoid what was left of Joey Drew, to Henry refusing to look away from Drew, to Mugman’s tight grip on the fabric by his thighs, likely to hide the rattle. He’d have to figure out who to take into Retribution first, and be fast. He didn’t have the observational skills of Mugman’s Domain, but he was fairly certain a change to the situation would result in Drew trying something at least. Mugman could pull another in, but his Domain was surprisingly good at losing things in Retribution if it wasn’t just dumped on the scales. And dumping anyone on the scales while his Domain was in the state it was in wasn’t remotely close to a good idea.

**‘You wouldn’t leave without giving your dear creator a hug, would you? Such rude children you’ve become.’**

Bendy made a noise, an odd choking noise. Henry tore his gaze from Joey in time to see Jendy collapse, making a watery gurgling wheeze as his body destabilized. His lower limbs vanished into a pool of ink, his upper limbs bowed and bent under their own weight, melting at points, solid in others. His head would have collapsed into his shoulders had it not been for his neck reappearing, ink from his face melting to reform it.  A hand, flashing white and black with every wave of ink that swirled around it, reached out, reaching for Bendy. The cutout fell over, having been upright, as Bendy had been.

The _thing_ peered down at Cuphead, standing where Bendy had been.

**‘Terrible influences, forcing my hand like this. I’ll have to find something to gift them after they’ve apologized, show them I _care._ Now what could I present to them?’**

It slid into the woodgrain, sinking away from the shadows giving off a watery scent. Reappearing by Henry, easily grabbing the bat before it hit its face.

**‘A new member to the family perhaps? A distant relative, a parent returned and here to stay! I know one would like that, but the other might not, and the fights! I’ve been called by families before, granted desires for stable homes by _removing_ the difficult parent. So maybe your suffering?’** The bat shattered, Henry staggered back, fury at what had been done to the two ink demons eclipsing any fear he’d previously had. Joey collapsed, broken bones and flesh no longer supporting the rest of his ink-heavy weight. He continued dragging himself closer. Closer to the inky puddle that Jendy had half become, and Jendy knew it. Weak sounds akin to someone choking on water spilled from him as he desperately tried to crawl away.

Fire burst to life, golden light searing the hands back and away, Mugman killed the fire behind him, lighting up the hall instead, chasing away the possible areas the _thing_ could hide without letting Joey any closer to Jendy or Bendy. Something in him, carried over from Cuphead’s side of Retribution, stirred, a budding interest that made Mugman shiver in confusion. The _thing_ turned; pinprick eyes focused on him now.

**‘Indeed, a little prize would suffice, I think. But you’ve escaped before, I’ll have to correct that flighty behavior first.’**

Mugman stepped back, wide eyes locked onto the _thing_ , fists tightening in fabric.

A noise, a fingernail scraping along Henry’s shoe, and then Henry was sent flying, crashing down onto Joey, a great splatter of ink bursting out of the bloated corpse. Joey gurgled, unable to wail with his throat far too destroyed to do more than make aborted noises that sounded close to Henry’s name. Henry scrambled off, throwing himself closer to the machine room. Joey twisted, thick, watery snarls spilling out of shreds of teeth and jaw. Henry glared back. It had been years since he’d last seen Joey, but while they’d worked together, they’d gotten close. Close enough that he knew Joey could read ‘none of this would have happened if you weren’t an idiot’ in his eyes amidst a metric ton of curse words.

Jendy scrabbled at the floor, leaving inky smears where his melting hands failed to find purchase. The cutout stared up at the ceiling, black lines wobbly and straining against the material.

**‘Now children, be good and take your punishment.’**

Words, shaky and fighting to be formed, appeared on the wall above the half-melted form.

‘Disown me.’

The cardboard shook, scraping along the floor from what Henry and the rest were certain was laughter. Feeding on Henry’s change to anger, Jendy’s target changed, he clawed toward the _thing_ , within the ink, he ranted at it, threats of what he’d do if it hurt Doll getting more creative every second. It smiled at him, turning its focus back to the frozen toon directly in front of it.

**‘I would never raise a hand to such a fragile prize, but… Oh but you escaped once. What could I use to leash you better?’** It hummed, sinking into the woodgrain once more, fading away from the fires light. Henry gave out a grunt as Joey grabbed his ankle, he kicked the hand away. But Joey was faster now, ink reforming on his bones, dragging the flesh back up, allowing the man to find his legs and stand and lurch towards Henry, chasing him in a fury driven desire to hurt the one who’d ruined everything.

Cuphead took that chance to get closer to his brother, taking a few steps, already calling to him in Retribution, hoping he’d know who to get into Retribution first. A soft, dark laugh, and much like Henry, Cuphead was sent back. He barely got out a surprised noise before he was crashing into the wall. Porcelain cracked; red tinted soul liquid splashed across the wall. The fire stilled, unnaturally frozen in place. A guest from the well yawned, stretching itself. Cuphead collapsed, leaning heavily to one side as one of his legs broke off above the knee. Gold illuminated the numerous cracks spidering all along his body, shadows devoured the snapped off handle.

**‘That’s right, incentive is always a solid motivator. I don’t believe you had the pleasure of being a part of the ink.’**

It returned, not passing by the unnatural fire wall between it and the rest of the hall where Joey, Henry, and Cuphead were. Jendy weakly grabbed the closest limb, and lost his arm for it. The _thing_ pat him on the head, a mocking hum passing thick, leathery flesh around the teeth. A hand burst out of its back, catching Mugman midair around the waist. He squeaked, grabbing at the arm as best he could. Cuphead growled, kicking his broken leg back, taking advantage of the pants keeping it in place enough for the magic to seal it back together. Henry fought to keep Joey’s hands from wrapping around his throat, hissing obscenities like it was an Olympic event and he was going for gold.

**‘I don’t blame my children from forgetting just whose magic made them. Who carefully molded their bodies and personalities from all the papers and emotions poured into the ink. I’ve never been able to walk free since being shoved into the machine, it’s no wonder they’d forget. But that’s okay. I’m very forgiving. And it may not be as attached to me as before, but it knows who owns it.’**

It shifted, avoiding the shot fired at its midsection. The hand around the other squeezed tighter, and it lashed out, a heavy swinging hand unavoidable in such a tiny location. Cuphead wheezed, vaguely hearing his arm hit the floor before he did. The blow had cracked not just his torso, but his face, and the last thing he really saw before his vision went out entirely was an oddly frozen look on his brother. Wide golden green eyes following his descent to the floor, blank as the frown barely tilting the corners of his mouth down. He expected his Domain to be shrieking with rage.

He wasn’t sure what to think of it laughing instead.

**‘Don’t be surprised the lions den you walked into wasn’t bereft of life. Coming here to extract a drop more of vengeance after stealing all you have from me, how rude. I don’t like losing in any sense of the word. And I certainly don’t miss opportunities handed to me on a silver platter.’**

Henry finally got the upper hand, cracking part of Joey’s jaw off, breaking half of his arm off despite the almighty squelch from the ink and flesh straining to keep it attached. The Cutout scraped loudly on the floor, paper wrinkling as the old form fought to re-emerge. And then it stopped, as did all noise from Jendy, even in the ink. The thing, vaguely aware of an animatronic coming to take advantage of Henry’s exhaustion being used to break Joey’s face in two, turned, confused.

Gold green eyes observed him with a deceptively blank half lidded gaze. Henry let out a stunned shout when the shadows under him devoured him. Cuphead’s broken, limp body dipped into the shadows, unhindered as the _thing_ focused on the blue deity. A flicker of fire, a flash of light, and its hand was empty, cool white fabric blinded it until it leaned back, finding the toon on its shoulder, still watching him, legs crossed, icy palms using its bony shoulder as support. It didn’t need the frigid hands for a shiver to peel down its spine. Golden thread, wrapped around the toons thin arms, draped themselves over it, one winding around its throat softly, delicately.

===-===

When Devil tore open the door, as Hell grumbled and growled, displeased with what had been shown to it by the other Domains, he scowled. One of the proclaimed ink demons was hastily writing down what Devil could only guess was a will. The other one gazed down the hall, fear and rapturous worship warring on his face. Devil rumbled, ignoring the hellfire he left with every irritated step as he made his way in.

A horn rolled into view, stopping at his feet. He looked down, confused, then looked back up, and understood. Scorch marks seared into the wood clear down to the main entrance room, fire continued to linger, casting shadows that sent the imps who’d curiously entered as well scampering away. Down the hall, the blue deity dropped what was left of a head, gold green eyes observing how the fluids from gouged eyes and torn gums and broken bones mixed with one another on smooth porcelain.

Devil knew the _thing_ wasn’t dead, it took more than that to take down one of his underlings, even if the one laying in pieces all over the walls and ceiling and floors wasn’t actually one of his, it was one of them all the same. Still, it was quite the scene. And the magic he knew the bastard had been toting like it was all powerful was missing. He wasn’t sure how magic of that type would just disappear, but he didn’t much care as long as it didn’t threaten him or his Hell. Part of Devil was proud in a way, he knew the little fella had been listening as Wheezy explained all his adventures corralling rowdy demonic guests. Fire scoured the limbs and fabric clean, gold watched him, assessing what best to do with the new audience. Devil’s tail flicked towards the Casino.

“Bon Bon got antsy, says she wanted t’ give the dead guy that gun before you left. She ain’t too pleased you didn’t wait.” Gold blinked to blue, and Mugman gasped.

“Oh goodness I entirely forgot Auntie Bon Bon wanted to wish us luck before we left!” He pressed pure white hands to his cheeks, then reached into the shadows, hauling Cuphead out with a harried noise of nervousness.

“Brother! Auntie Bon Bon is going to be so upset with us when we get back. I’m terribly sorry Mr. Devil. Oh, Cuphead have you found Henry yet?”

Cuphead shook his head delicately, still a bit dazed, Devil watched as the remains of cracks sealed up, and a rather _nasty_ grin befell his face. Mugman tugged on his brothers hand, pulling the groggy deity behind him as he paused to ask why Jendy was drooling on the floor and why Bendy was apologizing for the pie prank. A pointed ear twitched.

====-====-====-====

Bon Bon was busy, Cagney had waved them off after giving their inky shadow the stink eye, and now, on a well-trodden path in the thick woods Cagney’s temple was surrounded by, the youngest deities strolled. The brother in red was regaling his sibling with a story Brineybeard had told him, mimicking loading canons and waving an imaginary sword at invisible attackers. Mugman laughed, cheerily giving his brother his full attention, excited to hear more. They passed by a few people, some hopeful that Cagney was in a good mood, others holding little pots and slips of paper, far too focused on what they were going to say to bother thinking about whether Cagney would be in any sort of mood. They hadn’t seen anybody in a little while though, not after the last person muttering about petunias not looking right.

Cuphead, emboldened by his sibling’s attention, got a bit too wild with his motions, and accidentally smacked a hand against someone who’d been emerging from a bush on the side of the path. He jolted, tripping on his own feet to move away. He barely stuttered out an apology before the tall dove was ripping out of the bushes, grey feathers doing nothing to hide the furious red blooming over the doves face.

“What’s the big idea huh?” She shouted, feathery wings balled in a fist, beak twisted in a sharp sneer.

“Uh, apologize and leave?” Cuphead tried, shrugging, far more composed now. His brother edged closer to him, looking at something else. He tugged Cuphead toward him by one of the slips of linen on Cuphead’s arm, making the thick hand from the Dingo miss his shoulder.

“We didn’t mean any harm, if you wanted to see Cagney, he’s at the temple.” He pointed back the way they’d come, the sunlight peeking through the foliage glinting off the band of gold around his wrist. The bird flinched back, blinking rapidly, a coo of malcontent peeling from her beak.

“Kinda cups with your glitz walkin around praying to a nature god?” The Dingo asked, even if he didn’t sound interested in the answer. His eyes were locked on the gold collar covering Cuphead’s shoulders.

“We were stopping by.” Cuphead’s eyes narrowed. Mugman tugged on his hand, intending to step around the dove.

“Really, you should hurry if you want to get to Cagney before he starts work on his garden.” Mugman continued tugging on his irate brothers arm, wanting to get around them and continue hearing the story more than anything else.

“Goodness,” the dove cooed. “Are you saying he’s accepting visitors? Oh but my friend and I didn’t bring anything to offer!” The dingo gave a theatrically upset whine.

“That’s right! How could we forget! Gee, but you kids sure do look loaded.” His claw shot out, tapping against the gold band around Mugman’s upper arm. Mugman flinched, being yanked away by his brother. The brother in blue put his fingertips to his lower lip, a pout tugging the corners down.

“Auntie warned us there were all sorts of odd types about. Really sir, it isn’t smart to bother Cagney when he’s gardening, and you’ll miss that window very soon. I’m sure he’ll be forgiving if you promise to come back with something.” Mugman continued to try easing the situation, until he smushed against a thick, leathery hide. He flinched back, looking up and up at the alligator looking down at him. With the dove on their left, the dingo on their right, and the alligator in front of them, they were surrounded. A low rumble erupted from Cuphead’s shadow, reptilian in nature, angry in tone.

“Don’t be like that, what if he don’t accept it huh? You’d let us approach a god without an offering?” The dingo snatched up a thin wrist, twisting Mugman’s arm to examine the gold on him.

“Keep touching Doll and you’ll have limbs to offer up.” The group leapt back, searching for where the voice came from. It was the dove who spotted it first. She shakily point behind the dingo, and he turned, nose to inky chest. The smell of rubber ink burned his nostrils, bringing beads of water to his eyes as he floundered backwards. Teeth far sharper than his bared in a vile grin.

“Jendy, be nice. We aren’t looking to scar anyone today.”

“Of course, Doll. Just coverin’ the bases.”

“Boy aint you tykes full of surprises.” The alligator rumbled, composing himself. “Fancy bodyguard you got there.”

“Who, Jendy? He ain’t our bodyguard.” Cuphead scoffed, leaning his weight on one heel, keeping himself between the alligator and Mugman.

“Do we even have one of those?” Mugman asked lightly, looking between his feet, Jendy, and Cuphead. Cuphead just shrugged.

“This is the worst ambush robbery I’ve ever seen, and I got so many souls in me that’ve seen or done it, that’s a record I think.”

“Drumstick.” A new voice, a newcomer, another dark creature reeking of ink popping his head out of Mugman’s shadow. Pie-cut eyes locked on the dove.

“Bendy no!”

“What? Broad’s packin a bean shooter, she ain’t gonna need em soon!” Bendy, so focused on potential food, didn’t bother to notice how he was slipping. Later on he’d hiss at Jendy, shouting at his technical sibling about “sending the weird ones my way again!”. Now though, he was wondering how big a deep fryer they’d need and how much flour.

“Look, let’s play it nice. You bruno’s go take a nice stroll, get yerselves out from behind the eight ball and I won’t escort you t’ the big sleep.”

The alligator chuckled, the dove nervously laughed, the bushes laughed, and the dingo barked a high-pitched snort. More people emerged from the bushes, and Cuphead perked up.

“Told you they were waiting.” He nudged his brother shoulder, golden eyes glittering with anticipation. Mugman sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“I was hopeful.” He bemoaned, offering a hand down to Bendy, helping him out of the shadow. Jendy grinned, body shifting forward, eagerly waiting for the sign.

“And they’re heavy, my Domain is hungry, and Bendy wants a drumstick.” Cuphead nudged Mugman again, and finally, the blue deity nodded. The ground flooded, the world went dark.

In the distance, Cagney chuckled, scaring the worshipper who’d been asking him how their petunias looked so weird. Further still, putting the pot with a sunflower down on a ledge, Bon Bon fired up her pit, scrutinizing the many spices and flours she had.

====-====-====-====

Jendy had thought long and hard, even conversing with Bendy, though that only ended with them fighting. Something that was never good when they were directly under Doll’s feet. But he hadn’t been put in the shame corner again, which he took advantage of. A number of souls said a present was always a good thing to give, and he wanted to show Mugman how thankful he was that the toon was so kindly letting him and Bendy follow them. Bendy could dance—something Jendy was secretly working on best he could without letting his Doll know what he was doing. But Jendy wasn’t good enough yet, and he didn’t want to ask Cuphead, mostly because he was still on the fence about him. And he never knew how good the deity was at keeping a secret. So he took more advice, and finally came to a solution a few days after a particularly nasty sea bass had gotten in his Dolls face and shouted quite insulting things at him. The fish was quick enough to get it all out and storm away before Cuphead or the others could respond, but it still rankled Jendy.

He eased out of the ink, keeping his hands behind his back as he kept himself between his present and the curious deity before him. They were taking a break in the brothers completed temple. Cuphead was resting his eyes across from them, content as could be, arms crossed over his chest, one leg tucked under the other and the free one swinging above the floor. Bendy, who was quite aware of what he was doing, continued to say how unsure he was at the gift. He kept asking which souls where gave up the idea, but Jendy didn’t even know, and ignored him after the third time.

It was some of the newer souls, particularly ones who’d been dug up out of Hell. Ones that had been exposed to demons and Hell and terrifying things so much they didn’t have a grasp on social norms outside of what was okay in Hell and what wasn’t.

“You remember that ill-tempered sea bass from a few days ago?” He asked. A sliver of red peeked out from a gold dusted lid, Domain below getting that feeling that something hilarious was about to happen catching the red brother’s attention. Mugman, who’d perched himself on one of the plush seats and was reading various notes left by visitors, nodded, putting the notes on his lap to give Jendy his full attention.

“Well I ain’t one t’ let that sorta disrespect fly, an’ I been meaning to do something nice fer ya. So… ta da!” A fish head twice the size of his own was shoved into his face, glassy dead eyes bulging out at him. Mugman shrieked, flailing backwards, falling off the bench seat onto the floor. Cuphead burst into hysterical laughter. Bendy threw his hands in the air.

“I told you it would have been better to get him that novelty singing bass!”

“Stick a radio in this one and it’ll sing too!” Jendy shot back, confused from not only how his Doll was speaking that language he didn’t understand, but how half the souls in him were gleefully telling him it was a great gift, Mugman was just surprised. The other half were collectively smacking their foreheads, groaning at the stupidity. And finally how the shadows condensed into a void black hound. It sniffed the fish, golden specks glittering off its sleek nose.

_‘A good hunt, I approve of this offering.’_

Mugman’s voice turned hysterical, Cuphead’s chest cracked from the force of his laughter, the hound nodded once, and someone who’d entered the temple after hearing the ruckus clearly recognized the fish, shrieked “Harold?!” and it went downhill from there.

_‘They do not do that anymore, Scale.’_

_‘Are you sure he is not requesting my child’s hand in marriage?’_

_‘Certain enough.’_

_‘….I still approve of the offering, he shall be spared the next he makes a mistake.’_

A sigh drifted across Retribution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. I've been so busy it's been hard to write, but it's done! And I can bust out the other projects i've got in the works! Hot damn i'm excited for that like you've no idea. The only other thing i have planned for this is a 'quick dip in the well' for Mugs. And that'll spring up elsewhere. But i've got other projects, so it won't be for a little while. Either way, the journey is at its end, i'm glad you came along. And i hope you enjoyed this bonus content, i wanted to try something new with this cut content and bonus work.  
> See you later!


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